


Is this Hell?

by jellfish



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Afterlife, Anxiety, BAMF Connor, BAMF Evan, Dissociation, Evan is not happy, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fix-It of Sorts, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Jared Kleinman, Jared is a complex character, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Connor, Slow Burn, Suicide, established Jeremy/Michael, eventually, hell(p), neither is Connor, not just an asshole, who are Hell Veterans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-08 09:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14691642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellfish/pseuds/jellfish
Summary: Evan Hansen killed himself first day of senior year. So did Connor Murphy. They didn't expect what came next.Other wise known as: Evan and Connor end up in what may be Hell(?) which is decidedly Not So Good™, only to be convinced by two strange guys their age to compete in a televised competition for another chance at life. Oh and if they die competing their souls are sent to the Unknown, never to return.Heavily based on the web comic Hell(P)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: This chapter features graphic description of suicide, a panic attack, generally negative thinking, suicidal ideation and dissociation so if that triggers you then please be wary!! 
> 
> Writing this partly to vent my own mental health, and also to explore various ideas in my head.
> 
> This is heavily based on the web-comic Hell(P) (which if you haven't read already please do read as it's fantastic and may give you some ideas how this fic will flow...it won't be identical by any means but I'm obviously taking inspiration from it). The premise may seem a bit unusual but we're going to be in for a bit of a ride. This starts very typically however there is then a sharp divergence from canon into the main plot™
> 
> I have this fully planned and I'm very excited to get it written down (also if anyone else cares I'm halfway through the next chapter of my Voltron fic?) so hopefully you'll enjoy (◕ っ ◕✿)

Evan didn’t like to think of himself as actively suicidal. No, its was more of a background thought as banal as anything else he seemed to ruminate. _Did I have Spanish homework? Was he looking at me? Oh god he was looking at me. I could probably walk in front of that car if I started walking now. What time was the appointment again? Would that height be tall enough to kill me?_

It wasn’t until the…incident earlier that summer that he’d began to accept that maybe it was more than a passing thought, maybe it was something more tangible. On the one hand it scared him, but on the other he felt an all-encompassing numbness. He’d felt numb lying there, waiting for somebody for _anybody_ to find him. He’d felt numb as he’d finally accepted _nobody was coming_ , walked himself over to his boss, felt the half-hearted _’I fell’_ leave his lips. The normal rush of embarrassment he’d have once felt never came instead his words came out stilted, uncaring. 

She couldn’t stay once she’d dropped him at the hospital and he felt disconnected as he reassured her he’d be fine. He’d call someone. He didn't call. Who would he call? He’d half considered texting Jared but it had been a fleeting thought. Jared hadn't text him back all summer, what were the chances he’d reply now? So he’d sat in the waiting room, an unnatural calm throughout his body, like he was watching his life through a lens.

Thinking back he’d felt unusual the entire time he was in the hospital, like he was there but not. He was looking at what he knew were his hands, his feet, _his_ broken arm but he didn’t feel connected. He could feel the pain, but it was like he couldn't associate that it was _him_ feeling the pain.

It was only when his Mom (finally) arrived to take him home that he’d began to feel anything other than the physical pain; a sharp well of emotion had travelled up his throat as he’d choked on a sob. _Tellhertellhertellher._ He hadn't told her, just curled up in her arms as she’d hugged him; he remembered the sharp tang of blood as he bit his tongue, wanting to speak but unable to do anything but cry and nod as she asked ‘ _oh honey does it still hurt?_.

Presently he found himself lying awake since 4am, absently staring into the dark. He could feel his pulse heavy in his throat and he tried to calm his thoughts, but it was like the more he thought about calming down the more he thought about how he _couldn't calm down_ until he decided he might as well get up. He reached mechanically for his meds and bottled water, his fingers shaking as he unscrewed the lid of each. 

The water was warm and stale and he gagged slightly as the pills slid down his throat but he forced deep breathes. Senior year. It hadn't even started and already he was dreading it, mind focusing on everything that could go wrong. Just walking into school where everyone would see, would stare, and what if he _tripped_ or what if people were just staring at his clothes and his red face and his _sweaty hands_ and god what if…

He felt sick, swallowing down panic and nausea. He stood, stumbling only slightly to the light switch bathing his room in harsh artificial light.  
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath “get dressed, brush teeth,” glancing over at his laptop he sighed “…write letter,”

That’s where he found himself, a full hour before he needed to wake, fully ready to leave and perched over his laptop.

“Dear Evan Hansen…” he murmurs, chewing his lip and tapping his fingers rhythmically against the side of his laptop. He never knew what to write, not sure how to balance his self-deprecation with the positivity Dr Sherman clearly wanted him to show. He knew if he wrote too honestly then he’d be worried and he’d tell his Mom and his Mom would be worried and she’d be so sad and disappointed in him and she’d probably cry and the therapy was so expensive she…

He takes a stuttered breath, attempting to corral his racing thoughts. 

“Dear Evan Hansen…” he reads aloud “today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why. Because today all you have to do is just be yourself,”

Nope. He can’t do this, even saying the hollow words in the privacy of his room leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Evan knew he lied, he lied compulsively in an attempt to please other people. It was like his mouth took the reins and began to spew whatever it thought would make people happy. Would make people like him. Like the time in school he’d said yes when his teacher had asked if he’d had a pet. 

She’d just seemed so hopeful, that stupid _shy_ Evan would finally say something and stop stuttering and hiding away, that he found himself speaking (still stuttering) about his cat Legolas who was a rescue cat but one day he’d been passing the shelter with his Mom and he’d begged her to let him go in, and they saw Legolas and he was so cute his Mom agreed they’d adopt him. Except his Mom was allergic to cats and he’d never had so much as a goldfish.  
He’d felt so guilty it had _itched_ but he just couldn't stop himself from speaking. 

“So you just decided not to eat last night?”

Evan jumps, slamming his laptop closed. How long had he been just sitting there, staring at the screen?

“Oh, I um, wasn't hungry,” he says subconsciously twisting the bottom of his polo shirt, averting his gaze. 

“You’re a senior in high school Evan, you need to be able to order food for yourself while I’m working,” his Mom sighs, sitting next to him on the covers. Evan knows if he looks up her face will be awash with worry and disappointment, so he keeps his gaze low.

“You don’t even need to call any more, you can do it all online,” she continues. 

“Okay but see, that’s not actually true? Because, uh there’s still the delivery person talk to when you, when you pay? And uh, there’s that, that awkward silence when they count the change…”

“Okay but this is what we’re working on Evan, talking to people? Engaging with people? This is why Dr Sherman is having you write those letters right?” she sounds so encouraging that Evan can just _feel_ the guilt prickling under his skin. He’s not getting any better. He’s getting worse.

“I know, I’m, I’m trying. I want to be better,” the lie slides past and it’s so bitter he’s sure he can physically taste it.

“I know you do honey. That’s why I made an appointment with Dr Sherman today this afternoon, I’ll pick you up after school and we’ll go straight there,”  
Evan looks up at this, finally meeting her eyes.

“I already have, an-an appointment next week?” he says sounding unsure. It would be just like him to forget, typical Evan behaviour he thinks bitterly.

“You do, but I thought you could use something a bit sooner. Have you still been writing those letter honey? You know, ‘Dear Evan Hansen, today…”

“Yes,” he interrupts through gritted teeth. An awkward silence follows and Evan immediately feels the ever present guilt rise sharply to the surface. He was such a horrible son. 

“I, er, started one today, I was gon-gonna finish it later?” he continues, half to fill the silence half in apology. His Mom sighs and Evan feels his stomach churn as he takes in her tired expression.

“That’s good honey. They’re important you know? They’re meant to help you build your confidence,” Evan watches as her mouth contorts into a strained yet sincere smile and he feels his own face mirror her expression.

“I know Mom,” he says quietly. He watches as his Mom’s eyes widen, her smile appearing more natural.

“I know!” she gasps “you can ask the other kids to sign your cast? It would be a great ice breaker, you know? ” 

“Erm, yeah, perfect,” Evan replies, hoping his face isn't betraying how bad an idea he thinks it really is.

His Mom pats him lightly on the back before standing. 

“Try to have something to eat honey. I can give you a lift in this morning if you want?” she asks. Evan nods, and she gives a tight smile before exiting his room. Evan waits a few seconds before hastily grabbing his bag and phone. He won’t be eating; he’s far too nauseous to try. Instead he sits, his mind repeating everything that could possibly go wrong until his Mom calls that they need to leave.

* * *

Running into Alana Beck was not a situation his many scenarios prepared him for. She’d strode forward as soon as he’d entered the school, expression eager and wide to the point that he’d subconsciously taken a step back.

“Hi! How was your summer?” she asks immediately and Evans mind goes blank.

“My summer?” he asks, grimacing internally at the crack in his voice. 

“Mine was productive. I did three internships and 90 hours community service,” she replies, beaming. She must have mistaken Evans’ uncertain expression for awe as she continues “I know, wow,”

“Yeah, that, wow, that is er impressive,” he finally responds stumbling over the words. His mouth feels dry and he swallows nervously.

“I mean even though I was busy I still made some great friends, or well acquaintances rather,” she doesn't seem perturbed by his lack of social skills, that or she wasn't paying him any attention.

“That’s good, I mean I. Er, did you maybe want to…sign my cast,” Evan replies awkwardly, wincing at the gaps in his sentence as he struggles to get the words out. It’s at this that Alana looks down, her eyes widening as she takes in his cast. 

“Oh my god, what happened to your arm?” she asks. 

“Oh um well I broke it, I was climbing…” Evan trails off, his volume decreasing as he speaks; he’s aware that’s he’s twisting the fingers of his unhindered hand into his polo. His nails dig deeply into the fabric. 

“Really? My grandma broke her hip getting into the bathtub in July. Doctors said it was the beginning of the end because, well. Then she died,” Alana interrupts and Evan isn’t sure how to react but then Alana is smiling and wishing him a happy first day before walking away.

He sighs, relieved because _how in the hell do you react to that_ but disappointed because as bad an idea as he thought it was, he was hoping _someone_ would sign his cast. 

He breathes heavily through his nose, the fingers of his cast-clad arm moving to dig into the flesh of his other. The pain is grounding. He’s only just beginning to think about how he _should have climbed higher_ when Jared appears. 

“So, how does it feel to be the first person in history to break their arm from jerking off too much,” he asks, grin smug and Evan can feel his heart rate increase, eyes darting around to see if anyone else heard.

“I, what no!? I didn't, I-I wasn't doing _that_ ,” he hisses. Jared chuckles; it’s not warm, it’s mocking.

“Paint me the picture then, you’re in your bedroom, you've got Zoe Murphy’s Instagram up on your weird off brand phone…”

“No, obviously that, that’s not what happened,” Evan interjects harshly, still hissing as though everyone will be able to hear. He ignores the familiar ache that follows Jared’s insults, instead deciding to continue.

“I was, I was climbing a tree and I…fell,” he hadn’t meant to leave a gap and he can feel his underarms prickling with heat as he hoped Jared ignores his slip up.

“You fell? Like, out of a tree? What are you, an acorn?” Evan feels a small rush of relief as Jared laughs.

“No, I’m- I was working as a park ranger? At Ellison park? I mean not to br-brag but I’m er sort of a tree expert?” Evan rambles, forcing an awkward smile.

“Seriously is everything you say a question?” Jared replies, his face more disgruntled now than amused. Evans smile drops and he feels the familiar heat spread across his face and ears. 

“Um, no? I’m sorry I…” Evan trails off. Something flashes across Jared’s face but it’s too quick to decipher before he’s sighing.

“What were you saying?” he asks. Evan swallows before continuing.

“Oh well, there was this 40 foot oak tree there and, I-I decided to climb it,”

“And then you fell?”

“I mean yeah, it’s-it’s funny though because there was a solid ten minutes where I was just lying there waiting for someone to come, to come find me. Any second now, I-I kept saying to myself…,” 

“And?” Jared asks, and if Evan didn’t know better he’d say he looked slightly concerned. 

“A-and what?”

“Did anyone come?”

“Oh, no that, that’s the funny part,” Evan chuckles nervously. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jared replies, his face still twisted unusually. It makes Evan feel uncomfortable and uncertain because logically he knows Jared’s not concerned, so he hastily changes the subject.

“How was, what did you, er, did you have a good summer?” he asks. He breathes a sigh of relief as Jared prattles on about his time at summer camp, his usual assured expression back on his face. It’s only as he turns to go that he realises he hadn’t really been paying attention to the other’s reply. 

“Erm, did, did you want to sign my cast?” he asks wincing as the words leave his mouth, watching as Jared stops mid turn. 

“Why are you asking me?” he asks, an exaggerated confused expression adorning his face.

“I thought, I-I thought because we’re friends?” Evan asks, this time intentionally. Jared laughs. It’s not a kind sound.

“We’re family friends. That’s a completely different thing,” 

Evan swallows down the sharp stab of hurt and disappointment that sentence causes, cringing as the other reaches over punching his arm in what he guesses is supposed to be a friendly gesture. 

“Now don’t forget to tell your Mom to tell my Mom I was nice to you or my parents won’t pay my car insurance,” 

Like I’d forget, Evan thinks bitterly. Why had he asked? He knew Jared would say no, he’d spent the past year and a half ensuring he was _far_ away as possible from Evan Fucking Hansen, Evan Hansen who couldn’t answer the phone, who couldn’t hold a conversation without hyperventilating or crying, sometimes both. 

It became very apparent in high school that he was the very definition of a loser, he was embarrassing to be seen with and Jared had quickly decided he’d wanted as little to do with him as possible. He made it very clear that car insurance was the only thing tying him to his old best friend. Maybe if he’d hung himself from the tree he’d of had better luck…

“Hey Connor, loving the new hair length, very school shooter chic,” Jared’s insult cuts through his thought process and he looks up to see Connor Murphy coming to an abrupt stop, his long hair swinging briefly. Evan watches in abject horror as the other boy’s expression turns hard and he turns to glare at Jared. 

“I was kidding, it was a joke,” Jared backtracks, physically taking a step back to match his words one hand reaching up and nervously pushing his glasses back into place. It’s a nervous gesture Evan recognises from their childhood.

“Yeah, no it was funny. I’m laughing, can’t you tell?” Connor replies, his voice deadpan. He takes a step forward jaw clenched. Evan can feel his pulse in his throat; he didn’t know Connor very well but from what rumours he had heard he gathered he was loud and violent.

“Am I not laughing hard enough for you?” the tall teen continues, walking even closer. Jared laughs nervously in reply and Evan holds his breath.

“You’re such a freak,” he says, and Evan could have slapped him because _who says that!?_ And more importantly _who says that to someone who looks like they’re going to kill you!?_. Evan doesn’t need to worry about Jared’s wellbeing for long however as the other boy walks away immediately after insulting the taller boy leaving him, alone with Evan and _oh god_ now it’s just him and Evan. He laughs uncomfortably, hands hot and sweaty, twisting together as well as they can with his cast. 

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Evans eyes snap up and for a second he’s just staring into Connor’s angry expression.

“What?” he replies and his tongue feels like lead.

“Stop fucking laughing at me,” Connor growls, his expression darkening further. Evan can feel his panic escalating.

“I’m- I’m not,” he replies, his eyes wide, his whole body vibrating with nerves. 

“You think I'm a freak?” Connor sneers; he’s moving closer to Evan.

“No! I-I don’t…” Evan begins shaking his hands in front of himself nervously.

“I'm not the freak!”

“But – but I wasn't…” 

“You’re the fucking freak!” Connor snarls, two hands reaching out and pushing. Evan feels his centre of balance shift harshly and next thing he knows he’s colliding with the floor, his cast bouncing against the linoleum. He hisses in pain, breath hitching as he watches the long haired teen stalk past him on the floor. 

His eyes feel hot and as he feels unwanted tears build behind his eyes as all he can think is _I should have climbed higher, I should have climbed higher_.

* * *

Evan stared blankly at the screen. He stood, hands perched and ready to continue writing his letter, his mind still buzzing from the mornings events.  
Zoe Murphy had attempted some sort of conversation shortly after he’d been pushed but Evan had been so overcome with panic he’d muttered something and practically sprinted to the nearest bathroom. 

He remembered with startling clarity what had been one of the worst panic attacks he’d had in weeks; his chest still hurt from clawing in air and he was sure his neck would be rife with scratches as he’d dug in his nails, trying to take a breath. He’d forced a Xanax down his throat and attempted those breathing exercises, but it still felt like forever until he’d managed to leave the stall. A quick glance in the mirror had confirmed he truly looked as bad as he felt; eyes red, face blotchy, tears and snot wiped hastily across his cheeks. He washes his face in the sink (would you be able to drown yourself in a sink?) with vigorous rubs as though he can scrub away the memories of panicking along with the evidence.

He’d made a familiar trip to the nurse who had smiled and said he’d be fine sitting out his first lesson. No he didn't need to go home, no you don’t need to call my Mom. He’d wanted to scream at her to stop pitying him, he’d seen it clear as anything in her eyes and strained expression, but he couldn't blame her. Sometimes it felt like he spent more time here than in lessons; she’d truly seen him at his worst.

It was safe to say he was now exhausted. Feeling like you were dying tended to do that to you. He’d just about made it through the rest of his lessons (not that he can remember anything from any of them). He knew he should have written his letter at lunch (it wasn't like he was eating or spending it with anyone else) but as usual he’d procrastinated and knowing his final lesson always ended early that day (according to his timetable anyway) he’d decided to wait. He should have just enough time to write and print it before finding his Mom and heading to his appointment with Dr Sherman.

Now as he was actually writing it however he felt every negative thought he’d been actively avoiding hit him like a truck. He should have gone home. He should have climbed higher.

_Dear Evan Hansen_

He types quickly, not certain how long he’d have in the computer room alone before someone interrupted and witnessed him writing creepy letters to himself. He breathes heavily through his nose, jabbing viciously as he types.

 _It turns out this wasn't an amazing day after all. This isn't going to be an amazing week or an amazing year. Because, why would it be?_  
He takes a moment to pause. There’s no way he can show this to Dr Sherman, this has turned into more of a vent but he takes a moment to genuinely think. Zoe had _tried_ to talk to him this morning.

He wasn't sure what she’d have said, but she made that attempt; someone had gone out of their way to speak to him. Evan had always thought she’d seemed exceptionally kind, the way she’d take time to smile at him in the hallways. He wasn't an idiot, he knew she was being polite but there was a part of him that yearned for that social interaction. Jared of course had turned it into some sexualised crush, and sure if she’d asked him out he’d have said yes. She was nice, like he said. But it was this hope that someone, anyone would want to spend time with him and appreciate him despite his many flaws that drew her to him. 

_Oh I know. Because there’s Zoe. And all my hope is pinned on Zoe. Who I don’t even know and who doesn't know me. But maybe if I did, maybe if I could just talk to her…Maybe nothing would be different at all.  
I wish everything was different. I wish I was a part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean face it, would anyone even notice if I disappeared tomorrow. _

_Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend._

_Me_

Evan clicked print before he could talk himself out of it. Maybe he should show Dr Sherman. Thinking of it maybe he should have included Alana in his letter; she also spoke to him despite not really hearing what he was saying. She’d noticed him. She’d…

“So what happened to your arm?” 

It always amazes Evan how quickly panic can surge through his body. He’s certain one day his heart will just give up from the strain of constant adrenaline. Right now his panic is the result of Connor Murphy, standing awkwardly by the printer _holding his letter_. He swallows thickly. 

“Oh um I fell out of a tree actually?” he finally replies. Is he twitching? He feels like he’s twitching. He watches as the other releases sharp laughter, as though it couldn't be helped. 

“You fell out of a tree? That is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, oh my god,” there’s a slight smirk on the other boys face but his stance is still awkward, black nail polish contrasting the white of the letter in his grip. Evan laughs awkwardly ignoring yet another searing tug of hurt at the other teen’s words.

“I know,” he agrees. He does agree. The whole attempt was pathetic. Like him. 

“No one’s signed your cast,” he watches as Connor gestures vaguely at his bare cast. He finds himself nodding.

“No I-I know,”

“I’ll sign it,” Evan can’t help his face furrow as the other speaks. Was this a trick? 

“Oh um you-you don’t have to?” he responds, wincing at how sceptical he sounds. This was the Connor who had pushed him that morning, had sent him spiralling into a panic, he didn’t want to accidentally aggravate him. To be truthful he was shocked at how different the other boy was appearing now without the veil of anger he’d seemed to be wearing that morning. 

“Do you have a sharpie?” 

Evan rummages through his bag quickly procuring an as yet unused pen that he’d packed that morning. He passes it to the other boy who uncaps it, lifting his heavy arm up sharply. He can’t help the gasp of pain as his arm is roughly moved and watches as Connor’s face shifts minutely. He’s silently thankful as the other seems to behave in a gentler manner whilst scrawling his name across the entirety of his cast. 

Evan can’t help but wince; there goes his hope of anyone else signing it. Still he’s weirdly grateful, nothing but nerves at having such a noticeable signature dulling his tone as he thanks the other. Connor smiles bitterly.

“Now we can both pretend that we have friends,” he says, and Evan feels a strange camaraderie as he takes the pen back.

“Good point,” he mutters.

“Hey is this yours? I found it on the printer, ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ that’s you right?” 

Fresh panic blooms as Evan remembers that Connor still has his therapy letter and he’s unable to do anything but freeze as he watches Connor’s eyes scan across the page.

“Erm that, it’s stupid it’s just, it’s just an as-assignment?” he blurts out, moving closer as though to snatch it away.

“’Because there’s Zoe’…is this about my _sister_?” Connor’s tone is no longer awkward it’s assured and angry, as though its default setting has been reactivated. Evan shakes his head frantically.

“No, no no nonono,” he says gesturing frantically with his hands. 

“You wrote this so I’d find it right?” Connor is shaking the paper in front of him “you saw I was the only other person in the lab and you printed it so I’d find it,”

“Why-why would I do that?” Evan responds defensively, trying to ignore the pounding of his pulse in his throat and chest. 

“So I’d read this creepy shit about my sister and freak out? Then you can tell everyone I’m crazy right!?” Connor is shouting, his posture vibrating with rage. 

“No? What wait I don’t?” Evan desperately tries to reason, but the other is suddenly too close, in his face and Evan can see the unbridled rage in his eyes.

“Fuck. You,” he hisses low and dark, and then he’s gone. 

Evan tries to breath, heaving gulps of air as he processes what just happened. His palms are sweaty, shaking and he finds himself sinking to the floor, hands gripped tightly in his hair. Fuck this. _fuck this _.__

It’s with an unsettling calm that he realises he can’t feel his fingers. Connor still has his letter. He can’t feel his hands. An unnatural numbness begins to spread as he finds himself staring blankly into space. Slowly his panic recedes but it’s replaced with a bottomless nothingness. 

It’s like he’s watching someone else stand unsteadily to their feet and walk out the computer lab. His feet are walking towards the school entrance, but he can’t feel his hands, can barely feel his feet move. He vaguely feels his _weird off brand_ phone vibrate from within his pocket and he pulls it out answering it automatically. He wouldn’t normally, he’s in the middle of a corridor, but it’s empty and it’s like his hand moved on its own.

“Hello?” does he normally sound like that? Is that _his_ voice? His Mom answers, sounding harried.

“Hi sweetie! Listen, I’m so sorry but I’m not going to be able to take you to your appointment. I know it’s late notice but…” 

“It’s fine,” he interrupts. There’s a short pause before she continues.

“It’s just I agreed earlier to cover Erica’s shift, she’s off work with the flu, and I thought I’d have time to drop you off before I started…”

“It’s fine. I’ll…I’ll take the bus,” he says. His voice sounds lifeless and metallic; does he always sound like that? It’s like hearing himself through a speaker. Maybe he can walk in _front_ of the bus…

“That’s…that’s perfect honey. I’m going straight from here to class as well so make sure you grab something to eat okay? There should be something in the freezer for you if you have a rummage,” the relief in her voice is audible. 

“I will,”

“Did you manage to write one of your letters for Dr Sherman? He’ll be expecting one today, I mentioned on the phone you were trying to write them more often,”  
Evan bites back his retort because _why would she say that!?_

“Yeah I-I finished it. I just printed it off,” he lies. He’d be panicking that he didn’t in fact have a letter but he was finding it hard to care. Finding it hard to speak, to feel anything at all. He felt so dead, so disjointed. Like someone had muddled up all of his body parts and hastily stuck them back together.

“That’s great honey. Well I’ve got to go now okay, but I hope you have a good session alright? I love you,” 

Evan speaks past the lump in his throat.

“I love you too,”

There’s a few seconds between her hanging up and Evan registering he needs to take the phone from his ear. He clumsily places it back in his pocket and walks slowly to the bus stop. He doesn't even think as he heads toward the bus leading home rather than the one into town.

“Hey, er do you know how I can get to the Pits?” Evan jumps a little and looks up blankly at the individual speaking. It’s a guy around his age, slightly taller and appearing slightly out of breath. He’s wearing glasses, an oversized red hoodie and is staring intently into his eyes. Evans looks away quickly feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“Er…n-no I’ve never heard of that place?” he replies quietly. He hears the other mutter a small _fuck_ under his breath.

“Guess I’ll ask later then,” the other mutters, already walking away. Were Evan in a better frame of mind he’d have probably ruminated over how odd the exchange was. He wasn't though, so he didn't, instead continuing towards the bus.

* * *

Somewhere between getting on the bus and arriving home Evan makes the decision that he’s going to try again. Or rather somewhere between birth and present time, Evan makes the decision that everyone else would be better off without him. It wouldn't be an attempt, he thinks absently, this would be successful. The one thing he could succeed in. 

It’s an oddly freeing thought. When Evan had let go of the tree there had been some premeditation sure but it was very much on the fly. This was still pretty on the fly, but there was a lot more planning involved. For one he’d actually left some sort of note. 

_I’m sorry. You’ll be better off this way._

Sure it was eight words, hardly ground breaking but it got the main point across. He couldn't bring himself to go into detail, if he thought too hard about addressing his letter to specific people, his _Mom_ …he may lose his nerve.

He’d decided against overdosing. He’d researched it online a while ago and though the majority of sites were varied in their information it seemed that he just didn't have enough of his medication to effectively overdose. Part of him wished he’d began stockpiling it for this very reason, but there were always other methods. 

He had a tie in his closet, striped and unassuming. The last time he’d worn it had been for his birthday the previous year and he’d always assumed he’d wear it at his graduation. Well, back when he thought he’d be graduating. 

His hands were sweaty as he made sure his note was visible and neat and he walked into his closet flicking on the light. He reached up with his good hand, pulling on the rail; it’d take his weight, he hoped. 

With shaking hands he made his best approximation of a noose; he’d watched a video on how to do it a while back, but was too fraught with adrenaline to stop his actions and find his phone and google a tutorial on a hangman’s noose he…

He breathes in. It looks surreal hanging there and he gives an experimental tug. Good enough. He slides it over his head, reaching up on tip toes to do so. This is it. There’s a moment’s hesitation but he’s then hit with a worst case scenario: not going through with it. Waking up and having to face another day of crippling loneliness, another day of disappointment. Connor still had his letter; what if he put it online? Everyone would know what a creepy _loser_ he was. He just…he just needed everything to _stop_.

It’s with that final thought he forces his body to fall forwards, kneeling his legs as far down as the tie will allow. It tightens. 

_stop_

* * *

For a moment Evan thinks he’s failed. He’s clearly not in the closet, though his last memories are sharp and painful; he reaches a hand up to rub experimentally at his throat. 

“Well this is unfortunate,” 

Evan spins in place. He notices two things with increasing horror, one an oddly shaped figure standing next to his closet, the second his _own_ body hanging in said closet. 

“Wh-wh-what?” he practically shrieks. The panic he feels is so intense it’s like he’s both hot and cold and he can’t stop staring at his own body in abject horror. 

“Mmm, yes I’m sure you’re confused and, well I hate to rush this but I need to go through a few things,” the figure is speaking again, a deep baritone voice and Evan forces his attention to them. They’re around his height and would be almost human looking if it weren't for the disembodied third hand scribbling intently across a clip board. Evan never likes to judge, but they _appear_ to be male. 

“Your hand?” Evan asks, he’s certain he must look as dumbfounded as he sounds. The figure looks down at their appendage and hums. 

“This? Oh honey this is nothing,” they say and for a moment there’s silence broken only by the frantic scribbling. 

“Who…what…I d-don’t understand,” Evan says his eyes darting frantically between the figure and his own corpse. The writing stops and the figure sighs dramatically. 

“Look, I get it’s confusing but I don’t have time to….oh for fucks sake don’t cry,” 

Sure enough Evan can feel hot tears streak unchecked down his face and he rubs a hand across his eyes harshly. 

“S-sorry,” he mutters. There’s another sigh. 

“Fine, I’ll be quick. You’re dead. Obviously. You weren't meant to be but you are,” they shrug. 

“What do you mean I-I wasn…” 

“You just weren't. Some guy was meant to find you…” they flick through the paper on their clipboard “…huh small world, he’s my next job,” 

“F-find me?” Evan asks. The other rolls their eyes. 

“Yes find you. They didn't, so you died _obviously_ which means a fuck load more paper work for me. Anyway, enough questions from you I need to get this done. The faster we finish the faster I start my annual leave,” 

Now Evan is actually paying attention to the figure (and not his hanging corpse) he’s struck by how human he looks. Mousey brown hair, tailored suit, glasses. It’s only when the third hand reaches up to push the glasses back into place and a grin reveals sharper than average teeth that Evan is once again reminded that this guy is very not human. 

“What are you?” he blurts out, and at the other’s disgruntled expression he begins to chew his lip harshly. 

“What do you mean what? I’m dead. Just like you,” he says airily and Evan’s eyes immediately flicker round the room as though searching for a mirror. 

“Don’t worry you haven’t changed…yet. Apart from your kiss you look just as plain as you did in life,” the other says laughing. 

“My-my kiss?” Evan asks. The other laughs and it reminds him of Jared in its mocking nature. 

“Your kiss of death, method of kicking the bucket,” he says, gesturing at Evans’ throat and Evan can’t help but reach up and touch it gingerly. There’s no pain, but the texture is different. 

“Anyway, got to confirm this information with you now so…” the other peers at the sheet of paper on his board “Connor Murphy correct? Method of death…” 

“N-No it’s Evan,” Evan interrupts, taken aback at the mention of the other teen from school. 

“Really? Shit,” there’s some frantic flicking through paper “okay, here we are Evan. He’s my next job and you’re mentioned in his paperwork so…” they sigh “don’t even think of telling anyone I said this though, serious breach of data protection. You do and I’ll Incorporealise you when you pass through you get it?”  
Evan nods at the threatening tone, clueless to what they just threatened him with. 

“What…what’s your name?” he asks, wanting to know a bit of information about the stranger in his bedroom. They let out a throaty chuckle. 

“Nope. I don’t give my name on jobs. Find me in The After, buy me a drink maybe but for now this is strictly professional. Anyway so it’s Evan Hansen correct?” Evan nods “Method of death is suicide by hanging…” he trails off, muttering quietly to himself, third hand scribbling intently. Evan feels uncomfortable under his gaze, instead shifting his vision to the small potted plant on his desk. 

“Right. So I’ve got my final job then I’m off…not sure how soon I can get this paperwork in by so you might be spending some time in the Between before you pass through to your new home,” the other says grinning. 

“New home? Am-am I going to…Hell?” Evan asks, a new panic growing inside him as he voices what he’d been fearing since first seeing the unusual individual. 

“Ah…okay, don’t say the ‘h’ word,” the other winces “everyone’s a bit…touchy about it back home,” 

“Is it Hell though?” Evan asks, finding himself terrified of the answer. 

“Honestly? No one knows. Look you’ll get a lot more information when you pass through so just wait for that. I won’t lie things in The After take a while to get used to but you’ll be fine after orientation,” the other says, exasperation clear in his tone. 

“Wh-what do I do now? What do…oh god, I’m actually dead. Is-is this real?” Evan fists his hands into his hair feeling his breath quicken. Was he even breathing? Did he need to breathe? 

“Nope. I am not dealing with this, I’m going to my next job,” the other sighs, turning as though to leave. Evan finds himself reaching out. 

“Wait! You said Connor Murphy. I-I know…knew him. He’s dead?” he asks, dropping the other’s arm at the pointed look. 

“I thought I said that I never mentioned anyone else?” the other said harshly. Evan felt his hands begin to shake. 

“Please, I know him I just…will-will he be here too? I don’t…I don’t…” he trails off. 

“Look…fine,” the other says, their third hand running harshly through their hair. “You were mentioned in each other’s paperwork which is unusual enough as it is so yeah, maybe you’ll see each other? I don’t know, I’m not a so called expert on the Between like those quacks at the centre claim to be,” 

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying,” Evan mumbles, his hands wringing together nervously. 

“I’m saying that you might be able to see each other. It’s not usual, there are literally thousands of people in the Between at any-time and most the time you’re on your own, I know I was. But there are occasions where people share their time, and who knows maybe you’ll be lucky,” 

Evan isn't sure how to answer. He isn't sure if it is a good thing to be sharing whatever this was with Connor Murphy, but he doesn't want to voice this. 

“Tell you what provided you stay outside while I work I’ll drop you off at his corpse,” the other says. Evan furrows his brow. 

“Thank you?” he says, wary of the hot and cold persona the other seems to display. 

“Of course I won’t have time to sort your paperwork until I'm off leave,” they continue. Evan opens his mouth to speak but they interject before he can make a sound.  
“…so who knows how long you’ll be stuck here. Time’s a funny thing in the Between, but hey,” they grin and Evan can see each sharp tooth jutting out their mouth “ _if_ you guys can see each other you’ll have lots of time to become best friends,” the ‘best’ is drawn out and sarcastic and Evan swallows. 

“Wh-what are we supposed to do here? You-you can’t leave us…” he starts. 

“I think you’ll find I can. And hey, now you get to watch your loved ones plan your funeral,” they shrug “I mean isn't that what you wanted when you killed yourself? The ultimate dream?” they chuckle and it’s a low cruel sound. 

Evan can just feel his eyes begin to water, his face hot when the other reaches out with their third hand and the world begins to shift. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan finds Connor, everyone else finds them too (well what they left behind) and they have a much needed chat. Basically the boys begin their time together in the Between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//graphic descriptions of suicide, dead bodies, talk of suicide, some vomit, anxiety attacks 
> 
> It's not AS depressing as it sounds I promise...just 70% at this point. Fluff and BAMF actions scenes will be there in due time, promise!

Evan had to blink a couple of times in order to readjust to the abrupt change in setting. The other figure swiftly removes their disembodied hand from his shoulder, and Evan can feel heat resonating from the area as though it had left a burn.

“Well, here we are,” they say cheerfully, and it’s at this point Evan begins to take in his surroundings. They’re outside a large house, manor-like in size. Evan can tell even from the outside it would be the type of house he’d feel uncomfortable to be in, rich and intimidating, a perfect dichotomy to his small and cramped abode. A quick glance down the street confirms his suspicions that he really is only a few blocks away from his own house; it feels strange to think that it’s only a few streets separating what must be two very different lifestyles.

“Right, stay here now,” the other says, a small grin highlighting his sharpened teeth. Evan has barely a moment to reply before they’re gone, and Evan is stood alone awkwardly in the driveway of the house. He hadn't even seen him move it was like he was there and then he wasn't and his brain couldn't process the in-between. 

He found himself subconsciously running his non hindered hand across his throat, the odd texture a strangely comforting sensation. He wondered if he’d be able to see himself in a mirror, if they would apply for him. He walks closer towards the property, hoping to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He waves but all that reflects is the expensive looking car behind him. 

He’s just leaning forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the inside of the house when the figure appears again, directly to his left. He can’t help the small jump as they enter his field of vision.

“You’re good to go,” they say briefly and Evan steps towards them.

“How-how do I get inside? Can-can I open doors?” he asks. He hadn't attempted to interact with anything as of yet, but he didn't have much hope. If he had no reflection he figured the chances of him interacting with things around him to be slim to none.

“No clue. My time here was ridiculously brief, like it must have been an hour tops,” the figure shrugs. 

“A-and we’re spending _how_ long he-here?” Evan can help in indignation in his tone. The figure scowls.

“Your fault. Not mine. It’s not forever just…deal with it,” they say, teeth bared. They give a sarcastic salute and they’re gone. Evan is alone. 

He spends a moment calming his nerves, just taking breathes and clenching and unclenching his fists. Then he turns, walking to the door. For a moment he begins to knock, and is surprised that while the door is very much there and solid, there is no noise. 

He grasps the handle, attempting to turn it, but it’s like it’s cemented in place. As he tries with more force he can feel the frustration building; how is he supposed to find Connor if he can’t open the fucking door? He leans his whole body into the door, closing his eyes in frustration wishing he could just get _through_ , but they open only a moment later when the door appears to vanish. He stumbles forward, disorientated as his eyes dart round, trying to make sense of what had happened.

The door is still shut, but he is very much inside the house. Did he phase through it? He decides not to dwell on it, instead walking further into the house.  
It’s how he’d assumed it would be; clean and the wealthy exterior is very clearly matched within. It’s modern and sleek, the occasional ornament displayed in a way that would look out of place in Evan’s small, cramped home. A glance into the kitchen reveals numerous expensive appliances neatly arranged and he can just make out the tail end of a wealthy looking table. It’s otherwise pretty bare, walls decorated with the occasional art piece.  
“He-hello?” he calls quietly. He can’t bring himself to be any louder; the silence in the house feels oppressive and more than once he wonders how a house with so sparse can feel so weighted. 

He begins climbing up the stairs, (or rather staircase) wondering how even in death his hands are still sweating. There’s a muffled noise from one of the rooms and he heads in that direction. It seems to be coming from a room completely devoid of a door, and this decidedly works in Evan’s favour as he simply walks in. Despite knowing full well that Connor was dead, and subconsciously being aware that he was likely to be walking in on a corpse, it was still very disconcerting to find himself staring at what must be Connor Murphy’s dead body.

He’s laid haphazardly across the floor; there’s vomit smeared across his chin, pooling to the floor besides him; there a couple of clearly undigested pills mixed in and he is decidedly very dead. His eyes are open, staring, skin pale, lips blue. Evan takes a step back, only now realising that there is another Connor Murphy present. He’s sat hunched up next to his corpse, face hidden.

“C-Connor?” Evan asks. He thought he’d sounded gentle as he could, but it was clearly still a shock as the other boy propels himself back his face awash with shock. This Connor look more alive (despite also sort of being dead), skin pale but not terribly so.

“The fuck,” he hisses. For a moment the two appear to be in some sort of awkward staring match, but it’s broken as Connor stands angrily.

“Seriously what the fuck? You see me?” he growls, stalking towards the other teen.

“Um, er, yes?” Evan replies. He feels like he should feel more afraid of the taller boy heading towards him but a rather large part of Evan seemed to think  
_you’re dead, what more can he do to you?_

“How? Why are you in my fucking house? Is this some sick joke?” Connors voice is growing louder, more hysterical, and Evan can only frantically shake his head. 

“No, no no, did-did the-the person not mention to you?” he asks, unsure how to refer to the strange figure with the unusual features. 

“What? No!? They asked my name and fucked off,” Connor says roughly. If Evan wasn’t certain it would exacerbate the situation he’d have face palmed. Great, they were no help then.

“L-look I g-get it and I know it’s confusing…” he begins calmly as possible despite vibrating with nerves, hoping to placate the other. It seems however to fuel Connor’s anger and he continues to move towards Evan, his stance tall and threatening.

“You get it? I don’t know if you’ve noticed my fucking corpse over there Hansen but I’m _DEAD_ ,” he threads his fingers though his long hair and yanks “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, I’m still fucking _here_. How the fuck would YOU understand?” Connor’s voice is practically a scream, and in an action echoing the morning’s events Evan yet again finds himself shoved harshly. He catches himself on the doorframe a rush of frustration and anger filling him at the other’s words, so intense it’s like his skin is burning, prickling with rage.

“ _Maybe_ b-because **MY** body is at home _HANGING IN MY CLOSET_! So can you stop _fucking pushing me_ because I’m i-in the exact same position as you,” 

There’s a silence following his outburst broken only by Evan’s heavy breathing. The expression on Connor’s face seems frozen, as though his face had no idea what expression to adopt.

“You…what?” he finally asks, his tone subdued. Evan rights himself, leaning awkwardly against the door frame. His anger has left leaving his with a more subtle frustration and familiar feeling of regret and embarrassment. 

“I-I killed myself. And now I'm here,” Evan sighs; it feels strange and foreign to say out loud.

“Huh. Guess that explains the…” at this Connor gestures towards his own throat and Evans mirrors his action self-consciously.

“Y-yeah, I can’t s-see what it looks like,” he mutters, feeling slightly drained from his earlier torrent. Evan looks up as he hears the other sigh. 

“I have no fucking clue what’s happening Hansen,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair and Evan can’t help the laughter that bubbles out. It’s a crazed giggle and he automatically covers his mouth with his hand.

“Me neither th-this is f-fucking insane,” 

“Never took you for someone who swears Hansen,” Connor replies and Evan can hear the slight shake in his tone, recognising the attempt at humour for what it was.

“I’m not. Not n-normally. I th-think with being dead and e-everything that, now’s a good t-time to start as any,” he says shrugging slightly, deciding not to mention that he’s always sworn profusely in the confines of his head.

“Look, you said you’d talked to the guy with the three hands right?” Connor asks and Evan is grateful for the shift in conversation.

“Yeah he…” Evan is interrupted by the sounds of the front door opening, a conversation drifting through the house loudly.

“… _obviously_ he’s home, his cars here,” 

It’s clearly Zoe; Evan had never heard her sound anything but kind but even with the antagonistic tone it’s recognisable. Evan watches as Connor’s eyes widen, flickering over to his corpse.

“No nono,” he seems to be muttering under his breath and Evan steps closer towards him.

“Connor…” he places a hand cautiously on the other boy’s shoulder, but it’s not apparent if he even feels it so he quickly removes it.

“He just abandoned me at school Mom, like I should have expected when he agreed to wait for me after band practice,”

“Zoe…”

“No! I'm sick and tired of…you and dad only seem to care when…” their voices drift in and out as they walk through the house.

“…fine. Connor. CONNOR! MOM WANTS YOU,” there’s a sickening silence. Evan can feel his already sweaty palms prickle with anxiety and desperately wished there were some form of Xanax for the recently deceased.

“CONNOR…urgh,” there’s a disgruntled sound and then Evan can hear her running up the stairs. 

“Fuck you Connor can you not just…” Evan finds himself flung back from the door frame as she barrels through; it was like being hit with concrete. She made no indication she felt him though, and Evan watches as her expression changes rapidly. Her eyes widen, her face seems to pale within seconds and Evan feels physically sick as she rushes towards her brother.

“MOM! CALL AN AMBULANCE,” she’s screaming this then moments later she’s tugging Connor’s body forward, reaching for a pulse. The next second a woman careens into the bedroom, skidding slightly on the linoleum and she’s shrieking. 

“Mom, he’s not breathing he’s _notbreathinghe’s_ …” 

“Hansen,”

Evan tears his eyes away from the macabre scene to find himself eye to eye with the not-so-dead Connor. His face appears carefully blank but his tone is sharp.

“Fuck off,” 

“W-what I…”

“I don’t want you here FUCK OFF,” he shouts, his voice cracking mid-sentence. Evan observes his shaking hands and rapidly reddening eyes and nods, not bothering to say goodbye before he’s running rapidly down the stairs. 

The sounds of Connor’s Mom’s wet and broken sobbing and Zoe’s hyperventilating still rings through his head even as he manages to exit the house.

* * *

It’s getting dark in Evan’s room. It had taken him barely five minutes to walk back, more time was probably spent trying to phase through the doors he’d left shut in his house, but it appeared more time had passed than he’d thought if the rapidly spreading darkness was any indication. 

He’d tried in vain to turn on his light but similarly to the door knob it hadn't shifted. He’d tried to move a pen on his desk but it was like it was made of titanium; impossible to move. He supposed it was better than constantly phasing through objects; he liked being able to sit down on his bed even if the texture was that of a marble statue. 

He wasn't certain exactly how he felt, how he was supposed to feel. Witnessing Connor’s family find his body left him terrified of how his own corpse would be discovered. He hadn't considered it as he’d slipped the tie over his neck, not thinking he’d have to witness his Mom’s reaction. Even though he thought he’d done the right thing long term (she wouldn't have to worry about the bills for his therapy, his medication, wouldn't need to worry about her useless, _broken_ son any more) logically he knew she wouldn't be jumping for joy. He felt a jolt in his chest so physical he reached out and grabbed at his shirt. She’d be horrified, she’d be devastated oh god she’d…

He was gasping, clutching his chest. Out of the corner of his eye the original Evan hung silently, mockingly, strips of light from the fading sky casting pretty shadows across his corpse. It wasn't pretty, Evan was welcoming the darkness so he could stop staring into his own bloodshot eyes. They were blank, accusing. You did this. Evan had thought he’d left the light on when he’d…well when he’d hung himself, but the darkness is very clear. With a jolt he remembers how he’d scrambled for purchase as he choked, pulling the cord for the light switch in an attempt to…

“Hey,”

Evan physically jumps into the air with a squeak, scrambling from the bed to turn behind him. Cast in shadows stands Connor, his expression mainly skewed by the dark.

“H-how are you h-here? What?” Evan asks, internally berating himself for his awkwardness. Eloquent even in death, he thinks sarcastically.

“I honestly have no idea. I…” Connor pauses.

“H-how are you in my room?” Evan asks again.

“I just said I didn’t know,” the other boy snaps. Evan watches him sigh and walk over to his bed, flinging himself into a seated position. 

“Ow, okay that’s really fucking uncomfortable,” he winces, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable. Evan nods, perching lightly next to him.

“E-everything’s hard,” he says, his face flushing at the accidental double entendre. Connor doesn't seem to notice instead continuing.

“Yeah it’s like it’s all…” he waves his hand vaguely “…fake. Or something,” 

“C-Connor, how did you get here? I-I know you already said you didn't know, but you must know _something_ be-because you’re here? Not that you um being here’s a problem, I’d just li-like to know how you actually got here when um you don’t know where I live?” Evan rambles, the words leaving his mouth faster the longer he’s speaking.

“Wow. Okay that was a mess,” Connor replies, appearing slightly stunned. Evan flushes.

“S-sorry,”

“Nah, don’t apologise, I'm just an asshole,” Connor says flippantly. Evan isn't sure how to reply and is thankful when the other continues.

“I guess I just thought about you. Not in a weird way or anything I just couldn't deal with my family reacting like they cared so I decided to concentrate on something else so…” he trails off. 

“A-and you ended up here?” Evan asks. 

“Nah, outside your house. I'm guessing you also managed to figure out how to get through doors considering you were in my house,”

“Y-yeah it was like, phasing thought it?” Evan mutters. 

“So we’re fucking ghosts. Is that it?” Connor asks; it feels like a loaded question.

“E-er the guy I spoke to? With um the hands, he said we were in the Between? Before we went to the, the next place. He-he wasn't very helpful but he said when um we got there there’d be more answers,” Evan tries his best to explain, his hands wringing violently as he tries to process the words he’s saying.

“The next place? The fuck does that mean?” Connor asks, there’s anger laced throughout and Evan isn't certain it’s at him. It still puts him on edge. 

“I-I don’t know? I’m also dead so I um also have no idea,” Evan murmurs; the sound seems to carry through his room.

“Oh so you…” Evan watches Connor’s eyes travel across his room and it’s obvious when he spots his corpse.

“Oh shit,” he hisses. Evan doesn't know what to say.

“Did it hurt?” Connor asks and Evan’s taken aback. For a moment (and from what little Evan can see of his expression) Connor also seems surprised, like he hadn't meant to speak aloud. It’s only for a second though, so Evan can’t be sure.

“Did-did _your_ method hurt?” Evan replies bitterly, regretting it instantly.

“Yeah actually, it was fucking agony,” Connor says nonchalantly as though discussing the weather or a popular news story. It’s only because of how close Evan is sitting that he can make out the trembling of his hands.

“Oh-er well…yeah. It…it really hurt. It took l-longer than I thought it would? When I researched it…I mean um, basically I-I think I did it wrong, which doesn't surprise me because I do everything wrong,” Evan says, chuckling slightly awkwardly.

“Shit Hansen, you might just be fucked up as me,” Connor says, and he’s laughing too but it’s more genuine.

“To think we were both probably spending our free time researching suicide; everyone expects it off psycho Connor Murphy, but no one expects that quiet loser Evan Hansen to have the same internet history” Connors voice is so dripping in self-deprecation at this point that Evan can just about ignore the insult, but there’s still a sting.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“Shit I…I’m terrible at this,” Connor sighs “I am literally the worst person you could be stuck with Hansen, I don’t _do_ this. People,” 

“Well…” Evan shuffles into a cross legged position “if it’s any- any consolation I don’t think you-you’re the worst person to be stuck with? You’re l-looking at that person,” he says gesturing towards himself.

“You-Hansen you’re like a fucking marshmallow. Sure you’re fucking weird and awkward, but at least you don’t punch walls or shout or…” Connor trails off. 

“Y-You’re not doing that right now?” Evan argues. With the minimum light it’s hard to get a read on Connor’s expression but his tone is definitely exasperated.

“No but in five minutes? Ten minutes? I’m a literal bomb Hansen, I’m going to scream at you, I already have. Fuck I've _already_ shoved you and we've been here what? Two hours?”

“Connor, I don’t care?” Evan shakes his head trying to think of how best to explain. “What I mean i-is I'm glad I'm not alone? Plus I'm literally dead so, um logically speaking there’s not a l-lot you can _actually_ do to me? S-sorry that came out really rude,” 

“Wow Hansen, it only took you dying for you be unafraid enough to hang out with me,” Connor dead-pans.

“Sorry! I…”

“I'm joking, I literally don’t care. Plus I don’t blame you,” Connor says with a small sigh, leaning against Evan’s wall as comfortably as possible (it didn't look particularly comfortable).

There’s a buzzing that breaks the silence; both teens look over to the source of the noise which is Evan’s phone set neatly next to his half-hearted note. Evan hurries over to his phone and feels his stomach clench. His Mom is calling. It rings through and his screen displays several missed calls and a text from Jared. Evan can make out the first line of the text before the screen goes dark.

_yo acorn your mom wanted me to check on you but…_

“You’re popular,” 

Evan turns his head; Connor is looking over his shoulder clearly having seen his missed calls and text.

“J-just my Mom and Jared,” he says shaking his head.

“Kleinman? What did he want?” Connor sounds disgruntled. Evan remembers it was only this morning the other teen had been insulted by Jared.

“Not sure. My M-Mom called him I think,” Evan mumbles.

“He knows your Mom?”

“My Mom’s pretty cl-close friends with his Mom, that’s how we know, well um knew each other? I've known him since we were little, b-but now he says we’re family friends which is different to real friends and h-he only hangs out with me for h-his car insurance,” Evan rambles, digging his nails into his fist. There’s a sensation there similar to pain, it’s just not as intense as how it would normally feel. 

“Huh. I thought he was an asshole but that’s like another level. Why do…er why did you even hang out with him?” Connor sounds genuinely confused. Evan shrugs.  
“We used to- to be best friends. He was there when a-a lot of stuff happened and we were really close. It’s just this l-last couple of years. I guess I miss who he used to be and sort of hoped he’d…” Evan trails off. What _had_ he hoped for Jared? That his old friend would magically come back and apologise for being an asshole? 

“S-Sorry I er ramble a lot? When I’m nervous which is sort of, all the time?” Evan finishes. Connor sighs.

“It’s fine Hansen, stop apologising you've done nothing wrong,”

“Okay,” Evan mutters. A faint orange hue flickers across the room and a quick glance confirms the street light outside has turned on. Evan’s phone begins to buzz.

His Mom is calling again.

“What time will she be back?” Connor asks. He sounds uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure? She’s always late so,” Evan watches as his phone darkens again. 

“Want to get out of here?” Connor asks, and Evan knows what he’s really asking. Do you want to leave before your mother finds your corpse. The answer to this is a huge fucking yes and Evan nods enthusiastically.

“Y-yes please,” he replies.

Turns out that Connor is a lot more adept at phasing though objects than Evan is; he takes barely a moment to leave the room whilst Evan is there at least a minute trying to concentrate on moving through. He still can’t do it with his eyes open, meaning each time he’s staggered and disorientated to Connors apparent amusement. 

“Can you j-just think of somewhere you want to go?” Evan asks as they finally leave the front door.

“What like how I got here?” Connor asks. Evan nods. 

“Guess I can try,” Connor says, closing his eyes. The street-light makes his hair appear almost orange in appearance and his expression is one of deep concentration, changing to frustration as he opens his eyes to find he hasn't moved.

“Well fuck, guess not,”

“M-maybe it’s only people?” Evan reasons. Connor nods but makes no move to attempt that. At Evans inquiring stare he narrows his eyes.

“No one I want to think about,” he says, as though daring Evan to question it. Evan does not.

“Wh-where do you want to go?” Evan asks instead as they begin walking almost casually down the street.

“There’s a park nearby. I was going to go there to, you know. Started taking the pills whilst driving home instead, cause I had more stashed there in case,” Connor says; it sounds so matter of fact. 

“The park?”

“Yeah it’s peaceful and pretty big. Knew no-one would find me and if they did it would be some random jogger or something. Fucked that part up anyway,”  
Connor replies bitterly.

“W-with Zoe and your Mom…”

“ _Yes_ with Zoe and my Mom finding me,” Connor hisses “How do you even know Zoe anyway? You mentioned her in your creepy letter,”

Evan flushes with embarrassment.

“Sh-she’s nice. In general. She’s one of the few people who _are_ ” he explains.

“That still doesn't explain it Hansen. ‘All my hope is pinned on Zoe’, you have some fucked up manic-pixie-dream girl crush on my sister?” 

“N-No! The letter was for therapy,” he takes a deep breath trying to calm himself. Reminding himself he was already dead was a strange mix of calming and terrifying.

“You said it was for an assignment,” Connor replies accusingly.

“I _lied_!” Evan can’t help gesticulating as his voice grows in volume “I lied okay, I always lie it’s something I do because of my anxiety and because I'm a t-terrible fucking person. The letter was for therapy, I needed to write letters to myself telling myself why it was going to be a good day but _obviously_ it wasn't a good day I-I fucking killed myself. Zoe was nice to me, it’s s-sad but she was sometimes the _only_ one nice to me. And I appreciated that. Which is extra sad considering sh-she probably didn't even know my name. I didn't have some c-creepy crush and even if I did what difference does it make because I’m _dead_ ,”

Evan is panting at the end of the rant, not daring to look at the other. There’s an awkward silence and for a moment Evan thinks Connor has left and wouldn't that be _fantastic_ even in death Evan manages to annoy-away the only other person there.

“Did you kill yourself because of me?” 

The question seems so out of the blue that Evan can’t help the shocked “What!?” as he spins to face the other boy.

“I said, did you kill yourself because of me Hansen, it’s an easy fucking question,” 

Connor is avoiding his gaze, his stance rigid. Evan can see the way his fists are tight, nails biting into flesh, something Evan recognises only too well.

“No? W-why would you even think that!?” Evan says, his tone shocked and disbelieving.

“I shoved you Hansen, I took your letter and I was probably the last person to speak to you,” Connor replies shrugging. Evan decides not to mention the mysterious boy with glasses.

“Connor, no. I have-had a lot of other things going on. I’m sure it’s pretty obvious but I have an-anxiety? Depression too but it’s less um visible? Th-this wasn't my first time I er…” Evan begins to play with his cast. Evan is surprising himself with how open he’s being; these are things that very few people know, somethings only he himself knows; who else would Connor even tell though? The only thing the other boy could really do is judge, and Evan supposes that would be very hypocritical.

“I um, didn’t fall? Out of a tree I mean, that was odd out of context. I um, jumped. Nobody knows and wow um I guess no one will ever know now?” he says chuckling awkwardly at the realisation.

“And in regards to y-your question, was I the reason you killed your-yourself? Because with that logic I was the last person to s-speak to you. Sorry for rambling again, I guess you should get used to that?” Evan finishes; he’s sure his face must be bright red and he’s thankful for the dim light.

“Fuck. That…that was a lot Hansen. Not to steal your answer but, no you weren't the reason. I’d already had it all planned out. Like I said I was gonna do it at the park but I was too angry to wait until later so you might have sped it up not gonna lie. You weren't the _reason_ though. I um, also tried in the past to. You know,” Connor doesn't offer any more information and Evan doesn't pry. The other boy is clearly uncomfortable.

“I read your letter by the way,” Connor says awkwardly. 

“I know?” Evan replies, confused.

“I mean all of it. I was going to read it in the car, but I just shoved it in my jeans,” Connor reaches down towards his pocket and Evan is sure it’s subconscious “ When I was in my room and it was all kicking in I got it out and read it for some reason. I don’t even know why. Anyway it was…sad,” 

“Um I know,” Evan isn't sure where this is going.

“Fuck what I'm trying to say is if I’d read it all in the computer lab I’d have said something. Maybe. I don’t think I’d have been so pissed,” Connor sounds unsure.  
“Oh. Okay? I'm…I'm not sure it would have changed anything?” Evan says. He knows he’s lying. Would he have killed himself if the other boy had said something? If _anyone_ had said anything? Evan steers his thoughts away; there was no point dwelling on it when he’d already died.

“Fuck this shit is depressing,” Connor exhales with a bitter chuckle “and I swear Hansen if you say something like ‘well we’re dead’ one more time I’ll…” 

“You’ll w-what? Kill me?” Evan replies, a small grin in place. He listens as Connor bursts into loud laughter, like he hadn't meant or expected too. It’s brief but Connor’s stance seems more relaxed following the outburst and the small smile appears genuine.

As they continue their walk to the park Evan himself feels more relaxed. Well, as relaxed as he can be expected within circumstance. The park appears beautiful, the artificial light from the occasional lamp giving each tree an ethereal hue. As they sit side by side on rigid swings, the only sound is that of insects and wildlife.  
Evan’s about to make a comment about the immovable park equipment when Connor speaks.

“What are we supposed to do now,” he sounds resigned. Evan swallows, his hand reaching up to rub his throat.

“I-I guess we wait? He said it wouldn't be for-forever,” Evan replies.

“But what do we _do?_ are we supposed to just spy on our families? Wander round?” Connor sounds exasperated, his head hung low.

“I guess? We could um we could play two truths one lie?” Evan cringes as the words leave his lips. Connor scoffs.

“Two truths one lie? Seriously? That’s your fucking plan?”

“I mean um it’s just we’re spending this time together so? I though w-we could get to know each other?” Evan says anxiously, now fiddling around this chain of the swing. Connor sighs loudly throwing his head back in frustration.

“This is _not_ how I imagined killing myself would go,” he mutters, standing and beginning to walk away from the swings. Evan feels his face burn with embarrassment, why had he _said_ that!? 

He wants to stand and follow Connor, but the low-key anxiety that had been thrumming in his veins since he’d first awoken and saw his corpse, rears its head. He’s afraid to stand on wobbling legs. He can’t help but think of his Mom and what she’d say to him every time his anxiety got physical, how she’d sit him down, reassure him. His eyes squeeze shut as though in pain; they feel hot and heavy and he knows he’s about to cry. 

_Mom_.

He’s falling. Or rather he’s fallen. One moment he’s sitting on the swing, the next he’s on the floor staring up at the Kleinman household. He’d not been there in months, since the last time Jared had invited him round so ‘ _his Mom would think we were still friends_. It’s a familiar and homely site however, he’d spent so much time here growing up that provided there weren't any major renovations in the last few months he knew it like the back of his hand.

He leans into the door, stumbling through seconds later. Is he getting better or is it just because it’s so familiar. Moments later a harried looking Connor follows and Evan jumps back a little at the intrusion.

“The _fuck_ Hansen I thought you’d…” he trails off, running a hand roughly through his hair. 

“I-I didn't mean to I just started thinking of my Mom,” Evan keeps his voice low despite knowing no-one else will hear them. 

“Just give me a heads up next time, I turned around and you’d…” Connor gestures vaguely.

“Sorry,”

“This is gonna get annoying if we fast travel every time we think of someone, seriously,” Connor continues. Evan watches as he looks around, taking in the small (but not as small as Evan’s) house. Connors eyes hone in on a family photo; Jared looks about nine and there’s a plaster across his nose.

“Whose house is this anyway?” he asks.

“Jared,” Evan replies; he wants to laugh at the automatic scowl that forms on Connors face.

“Why the fuck are we at Kleinman’s house?” he growls. Evan shrugs.

“N-No idea, I was thinking of my Mom,” he says moving further into the house. A glance at the clock on the wall shows its half one in the morning. It’s strange, he could have sworn they only left his house nine at the latest. How long had they been at the park?

He moves towards the kitchen and the sight of two huddled figures at the table through the tinted glass door has him rushing through. He stumbles, looking up to see his Mom and Jared’s Mom sat, hot drinks in their hands. His Moms expression is crushed, tears running unchecked down her face into her drink.

“Heidi I can head over tomorrow and grab some stuff for you to stay if you want? Or I can stay over for a few nights?” Jared’s Mom inquires quietly. Rachel has always been so kind to him and his Mom, he remembers how active she’d been when his Dad had left.

“What about Jared?” his Mom’s voice sounds awful, like she’d been screaming. Maybe she had. Rachel seems to pause.

“Well if you stay here then we can all…help each other,” she says, placing a gentle hand on his Mom’s shoulder.

“Help? My son is dead Rachel he…you didn’t see him he was…” his Mom’s voice cracks and Rachel reaches over to hug her tightly “I tried to save him Rach, I’m a nurse and I couldn’t even save my own son my…” her speech becomes incomprehensible at this point as sobbing takes over.

“Mom?” Evan reaches out towards her at this point. He’s crying too though silently; watching his Mom cry feels sharper than when he’d broke his arm, more painful than anything he’d ever experienced. He stops, just before he touches her, dropping his arm and sinking to his knees.  
He grips his hair in his hand and yanks, but there’s no pain, nothing to ground him.

“Fuck, _FUCK_ ,” he sobs, biting into his lip hard enough that it would normally bleed. Looking down his knees seem to shimmer in and out of sight; they’re opaque and then they’re not, the linoleum slightly visible through his legs. He’s physically heaving for air, fingers scrambling at his throat, but the texture is _wrongwrongwrong_.

“Hansen! Hey!” there’s a decidedly solid hand on his back and before he can register it he’s being forcefully lifted and guided out of the room. It’s like Connor’s pulled him through the door with him, and it feels no different to when he phases on his own. There just seemed to be less thought involved.

“Fuck, hey Hansen look at me,” he’s aware he’s sat awkwardly in the corridor of the Kleinman household, Connor hovering somewhat anxiously above him. His mind is racing though because _he’s dead_ how is the pulse in his throat so painful when he’s _dead_ , how could he do this to his Mom oh god she’s crying she’s _cryingcryingcrying_.

“Hansen! Evan, Evan look at me please,” he finally looks up in Connors eyes. There’s a fear in them he’d never seen before, a visible panic. “That’s it that’s good okay, fuck I don’t know what to do what do you normally do?” Connor’s looking round as though for inspiration. Evan takes a stuttered breath.

“J-just talk,”

“Talk? Yeah okay talk, I can talk um so you know how there’s that orchard? Not too far out but far enough you’d need to drive?” Evan shakes his head, still breathing unevenly. 

“Oh okay well it’s pretty nice er well it used to be I guess anyway sometimes I head there not even to get high sometimes I just read? It’s not technically legal but…”

It’s strange to watch the other boy ramble; his tone is still slightly panicked and awkward, but as Evan focuses on his voice he feels the sensation return to his fingers and his breathing slow. He doesn't know how long it takes only that at some point Connor had shifted beside him; the heavy weight of his arm across his back and shoulder was grounding. Evan cuts in when there’s a lull in speech.

“Th-thanks for that. I-I normally just take a Xanax a-and hope for the best,” he says, his voice a whisper. He hears Connor exhale and for a moment he sounds relieved.

“Jesus Hansen just don’t do that again,”

“I’ll t-try not to?” 

“You were fucking fading in and out Hansen it was…” Connor sighs again heavily. Evan hums in reply, too tired to think of an actual response.

They sit, breathing deeply for a few moments; Evan is hyper sensitive to Connor’s arm still strewn across his shoulders like a weighted blanket, but other than a small surge of heat to his cheeks and ears he can’t bring himself to care.

“L-lets go downstairs,” Evan says, slowly wriggling from under Connors arm. Connor pulls it back sharply.

“Why?” 

“I-It’s probably where Jared is?”

“Why the hell would I want to see Kleinman?” Connor sounds disgruntled as they move to stand, stretching their legs. Evan shrugs.

“I don’t re-really want to go back in there,” 

“Fine,” the other boy mutters.

“I honestly don-don’t know if he’ll care?” Evan isn't sure why he’s voicing this. They descend into the basement and sure enough Jared’s voice bleeds through. Connor doesn't reply. Evan doesn't blame him, it was an awkward statement to make.

Jared is sat, headphones on. He’s chatting loudly to his team mates and Evan doesn't recognise the game. He sighs, sitting awkwardly on the small sofa behind the PC. Connor hovers nearby, making no move to sit.

“He always used to do l-late night gaming. We’d play g-games here sometimes too, um well by we I mean Jared and I’d just watch. My hands are al-always too shaky to play properly, well that’s what he said,” Evan says awkwardly, to break the silence between him and Connor. Connor makes his way over towards Jared, who is letting out noises of frustration at whatever is happening in game.

“He sounds like a dick Hansen. Hey,” Connor moves so he’s behind Jared, peering over his shoulder with a grin “reckon I can slap him?”

Evan represses a laugh at the mental image.

“I doubt it? I m-mean when Z- um I mean when someone walked into me it literally flung me out the way, and also I couldn't even move a pen?” Evan decides mid word to avoid mentioning Zoe. It appears to be the right decision as Connor merely continues.

“Huh. Maybe if I tried…” Connor turns to face Jared and Evan can’t see much. The next moment however Connor appears to fall through the other boy and his PC. The electronics immediately shut down, screen blank and Jared is ripping his headphones off cursing.

“Connor?” Evan calls, quickly moving to find the other teen. He’s just righting himself as Evan walk round the PC.

“Huh. So that’s a thing,” he says nonchalantly, but there’s a grin on his face.

“How did you e-even do that?” Evan asks. Out the corner of his eye he sees Jared frantically attempting to revive his computer. 

“I just thought about going _through_ it rather than moving it. And yes I’m talking about Jared, dick doesn't deserve a personal pronoun,” Connor states. Evan isn't entirely sure it _isn't_ a personal pronoun, but he doesn't push.

“FUCK,” 

They both turn to face Jared whose face is red with anger.

“Fucking computer, was there a power cut?” he’s muttering. They watch as he jogs to the top of the basement stairs, opening the door to shout.

“MOM, was there a power cut? My computer isn't turning on,”

“Did he not notice the light stayed on?” Connor mutters, but Evan strains his ears to hear Jared.

“Mom? Are you..”

“Jared can you wait downstairs for a sec? I’ve got something to tell you okay?”

“Sure Mom, er why is Evan’s Mom here?” it’s difficult to hear but Evan can just about make out the conversation.

“I’ll be down in a sec okay, I’ll explain everything,”

“Sure Mom,”

Evan and Connor watch as Jared descends dejectedly, an unsure expression on his face. Evan’s glad he moved from the sofa as Jared propels himself into the cushions. He didn't want to think would happen were he trapped between two immovable objects himself having not yet phased through anything but a door.

“Evan, do you want to leave?” Connor’s asking him and he sounds almost gentle. 

“I don’t know,” Evan replies. The decision seems made for him, as the next moment Jared’s Mom is heading down the stairs, expression sombre. As she reaches the bottom Jared seems to tense.

“Mom what’s happened?” he asks, laughing nervously. Evan watches as he repeatedly pushes his glasses into place before they've even slid down.

“Jared it’s Evan,” his Mom says. Her voice is soft and she takes the vacant seat next to her son, resting a hand lightly on his knee. Jared’s expression morphs into mild confusion.

“What about Evan? I only saw him earlier today, did he say something? Cause I swear I’ve not done anything to…”

“Jared, Evan killed himself earlier tonight,”

There’s a deafening silence. Evan stares at Jared’s face which is perfectly blank. He’s aware that Connor has rested his hand lightly on his shoulder, but he’s more focused on the scene occurring.

“What?” Jared’s voice cracks.

“Heidi’s going to be staying with us for a few days until she finds her feet, okay?” Jared’s Mom’s voice is shaky, like she’s struggling to remain calm and Evan automatically jabs his nails into his arm. The lack of normal pain is frustrating.

“No you…you’re wrong you’re…,” Jared’s expression crumples. 

“Jared…” his Mom reaches out, but he pulls away sharply.

“No you don’t understand you…if he’s dead then that means,” he takes a shaky breath “that means it’s my fault,”

At this his Mom grabs him, wrapping herself around him.

“No Jared it wasn't your fault it…” he wrenches out of her grip.

“It WAS!” he’s shouting now, his face red; the words pour out in a rush “Heidi she, she called me hours ago she asked me to go over and check on him because he hadn't turned up at his therapy appointment. I didn't go over, I texted him instead and he never replied,”

Jared’s Mom seems shocked like she doesn't know quite how to react, just murmuring his name softly.

“If I, FUCK if I just went over then he wouldn't have…shit,” he wipes his eyes messily, forcing his glasses up as he smears the tears across his face. 

“Jared I…”

“I was horrible to him Mom,” he sniffs.

“Jared he knew you loved him, you were his best friend for years…”

“No he DIDN'T. I-I told him,” he takes a shuddering breath “I told him I only hung out with him so you’d pay my car insurance,” he hisses the last part. His Mom looks stunned, unsure how to process or continue.

“Jared you…”

“I treat him like SHIT Mom. My-my best friend killed himself and he thought I _hated_ him,” 

“Baby come here,” Jared accepts her open arms this time, leaning into the embrace.

“How-how did he do it Mom?” 

“Jared I don’t know if…”

“Mom _please_ ” his voice cracks.

“Baby he…he hung himself,”

Evan was vaguely aware that Jared was an ugly crier. He always had been; his faced scrunched up, turned bright red and he always, _always_ made these small choked hiccup sounds. He’d nor seen Jared cry for years though, and it was especially jarring seeing him crying over Evan. Evan had been so sure the other boy would be more uncaring, nonchalant. Was it because he feels guilty? That would make sense but…Jared was sobbing. 

And Evan didn’t know how to feel.

“Hey Evan?” Connors voice is quiet, he focuses on that. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else for a bit,” 

Evan nods, walking through the house. He can feel Connor’s hand still resting on his shoulder like a gentle guide; it’s grounding. They reach the end of the drive and Evan stops, dropping down harshly onto the pavement. He forces his face into his knees, breathing heavily through his nose.

“I hate this,” he says, muffled by the fabric of his khakis. Connors drops next to him.

“Yeah, me too,” Connor sighs. There’s a moments silence then Connor clears his throat.

“So Han-Evan. I know how to skateboard, my favourite colours red and I played the ukulele,”

Evan tilts his head, still on his knees staring wide eyed at the other in realisation. Connor is looking anywhere but him, but Evan can’t help the nervous smile that stretches across his face.

“You know how to skateboard?” he asks.

“Nope,” Connor replies, popping the p “that’s the lie,” 

“Really? You- you play the ukulele?” Evan asks, lifting his head from his knees.

“No, I _played_ the ukulele. Once. Very badly,” Connor’s smiling now. It’s very small, but very visible. Evan giggles, face reddening at the sound.

“Pretty sure th-that’s cheating,” he says, coughing. 

“Well on your turn you can be more specific,” Connor replies, shrugging and Evan can’t help the small feeling of unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. 

Maybe this, whatever it was wouldn't be _so_ bad. It couldn't get worse…right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so with that thought Evan proceeded to curse himself...
> 
> So, any thoughts? I hope it was okay! Coming up lots of bonding time for the boys and oh what's this, Heidi meeting Cynthia? Jared feeling guilty? Will Alana put the 'fun' in funeral? (don't worry she won't at all)
> 
> Honestly I love Jared, don't worry this is like I said, sort of a fix-it fic (it will be eventually) so he won't suffer forever! Thank you for reading! (〃‿〃✿)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys chat, bond(?) and witness an unexpected meeting between their parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS Tw// mentions of death, suicide, mental illness.
> 
> Angsty as usual, but the boys have each other so...(✿˵◕‿◕˵)

“So you u-used to read comics?” 

They’re still sat outside Jared’s house, on the pavement connected to the driveway, although Evan is now lying flat on his back. He looks over at Connor who is slouched next to him, not fully reclined but definitely slumped.

“Yeah, wasn't obsessed or anything, just liked them. Stopped when I was about twelve for some reason,” Evan watches Connor casually bite his nails during his reply. The two had ceased the two truth one lie what must have been hours ago; they just seemed to be talking. Nothing deep, nothing related to Connor’s family (Evan had tried but Connor had pretty much ignored him, instead asking a completely unrelated question). 

Evan was surprised how pleasant it was, talking about essentially nothing. Just talking to another human being that wasn't his Mom was refreshing, now he’d worked through his initial anxiety. A bitter part of him wondered if this was what it would have been like had he had friends. He was surprised Connor was so talkative; part of him also wondered if Connor was equally lonely. He was being surprisingly receptive throughout the conversation, almost like the explosive Connor he’d seen earlier was dormant. 

“I n-never read comics when I was y-younger, my Dad said…” Evan trails off. The topic of his Dad was anything but surface level. He clears his throat “anyway my Mom bought me s-some X-Men comics and I liked th-those?”

“Wait so you didn't read them when you were younger, but your Mom bought you some? Like, recently?” Connor asks. Evan turns so his whole body is facing the other boy.

“N-no, after my dad left she bought me them so I was um seven? I think?” he says. “When you um were talking well when I was panicking you-you mentioned an orchard?” Evan continues before Connor can even open his mouth. His dad is a subject he’d rather not discuss, not now. Not ever if possible.  
“Yeah, what about it?” Connor appears to have twisted himself so he’s facing Evan directly. Evan’s eyes flick upwards and for a moment it’s like they’re having an impromptu staring match. He quickly looks away. It’s disconcerting in a way he can’t pinpoint.

“Oh um nothing it just seems like a n-nice place?” Evan replies, ignoring how his cheeks and ears now seem to burn. Connor shrugs.  
“It is. All I do there now…all I did there was read and smoke pot,”  
“Oh,” Evan isn’t quite sure how to react. 

“Oh? Not lecturing me on the dangers of marijuana?” Connor says grinning slightly. Evan _thinks_ he’s joking, but he isn't sure. 

“No? Not-not to bring the mood down but I feel like suicide is-is probably more hazardous to your, to your health than smoking drugs,” Evan says shrugging the shoulder not currently lying on the pavement.

“All I got from that sentence was ‘smoking drugs’. Really Hansen?” Connors chuckling slightly; it’s a raspy sound but not unpleasant. Evan can feel his face turning red.

“Sh-shut up, I don’t _do_ drugs I don’t know the l-lingo,” he says rolling onto his back in the hope Connor won’t see his brightened face.  
“It’s not…you know what, this is just embarrassing. We should change the subject,” Evan can practically hear the smirk on Connor’s face.  
Evan spends a moment just staring at the brightening sky.

“Did you want to see your family?” he asks before he can even register what he’s said. His eyes widen and there’s a brief moment of silence where he’s certain he’s _fucked up oh god he’s going to be so pissed off he was avoiding the subject oh god_ …

“Not particularly,” Connor finally replies. His tone is grim and at a glance his expression is hostile, but he’s not shouting which Evan guesses is a plus.

“Um…” Evan isn't sure how to respond.

“They don’t care. Not really. The only reason I’d want to see them is to see Larry **finally** realise I wasn't just _seeking attention_. He wouldn't even let me get…wait why am I even telling you this Hansen?” Connor’s tone grows bitter and resigned as he speaks. Evan swallows.

“I-I don’t know? I don’t mind you telling me, um I mean there’s not, not really anyone else you _can_ tell? Sorry that sounded bad um,” Evan says, digging his fingers into his arm. He’s still staring at the sky but he can’t concentrate; his eyes keep flickering over to the boy in his peripheral. 

“Guess you’re right,” Connor replies, chuckling humourlessly “not like _you_ can tell anyone either right? No one to reveal the psycho’s secrets to,” he finishes bitterly. 

“I wouldn't anyway? Tell anyone that is um. Even if we weren't, you know. Dead,” Evan says, scowling just slightly at the accusation.

“Sure,” it’s obvious from his tone Connor doesn't fully believe him “but yeah, anyway why do you keep doing that?” 

At this Evan sits up, tired of lying down. It’ll be easier to see Connors facial expression this way, easier to judge if he’s making him angry.

“Doing what?” he asks.

“Saying we’re dead. You keep saying it, are you actually that okay with it or are you just reminding yourself?” Connor leans forwards, hands on knees.

“Um…” Evan thinks, not sure how to fully explain “I mean this doesn't feel real, I sort of feel like I'm dreaming? I feel like if I concentrate on it I-I’ll panic. So I guess I’m sort of getting used to the idea of it? When I um did it I didn't really think of an after I just wanted everything to s-s-stop? I'm sort of terrified but also I feel a bit like um well, fuck it what’s the worst that can happen? ‘Cause I'm already you-you know. Dead,” 

Throughout his speech Evan is aware he’s been rubbing his throat, running his hand along the visible markings. He wishes he knew what it looked like, but at the same time is sort of relieved he can’t see it. Seeing it would make it more real. 

“Um people didn’t look at me before. I was pretty much um ignored and it’s like I've gone from be-being invisible to being _literally_ invisible,” Evan continues, his heart clenching as he thinks briefly of his Mom, Jared.

“I'm angry,” Evan looks up as Connor begins speaking. The other is looking away, his fists clenched. “I killed myself to leave this shit behind,” he gestures vaguely “and I'm still here. I'm still fucking here. I feel like nothingness would be better than this,”

“Don’t say that,” Evan rebukes, continuing before he can feel any sort of guilt for his sharp tone “this isn't it rem-remember? This is temporary, we’re going somewhere after” 

“What the place where that thing came from? No offence but I’m not particularly excited to see this mysterious Hell,” Connor sighs, clearly coming to a similar conclusion to Evan as to the nature of their future afterlife. Evan winces slightly. 

“Um, the person said not to call it Hell? Apparently th-they’re funny about it there,” Evan mutters. Connor barks out a laugh. Evan isn't sure what’s funny.  
Both jump slightly at the sound of the Kleinman’s front door opening. It’s not loud by any means, but the only other sounds of the morning are birds and distant traffic. Evan watches as Jared’s Mom leaves the property, her expression grim. It’s like she’s aged overnight, and Evan can’t help the tang of guilt as he watches her crush her hands into her eyes like she’s holding back tears. Next thing she’s climbing into her car and Evan finds himself hauled to his feet and practically carried out the driveway.

He twists in Connors hold, staring at the other questioningly.

“No idea what would happen if you got hit by a car but I don’t particularly want to find out,” Connor says, and it’s as though he’s purposefully not meeting Evan’s eyes. If Evan didn't know better he’d swear the other teen was blushing. However he did know better, so he merely nods, hyper aware of the hands still resting on his torso.

“Th-thanks,” he says softly. He looks up at the Kleinman’s vehicle just as the engine turns on. Evan purposefully neglects to mention that he could have probably walked out the way of the vehicle at quite a leisurely pace; Jared’s Mom had only just began to reverse. After all he felt touched that Connor had made the effort to help him out the way at all (though he suspected it was to minimise Evan being hit which would no doubt be a hassle and _god he was such a burden_ ).

“What do you want to do now?” Evan is broken out of his self-critical spiral by the question.

“Um…” he thinks of where they could go, swallowing down the sharp stab of pain now associated with his Mom “should we go for a walk?”  
“A walk? Where?”

“Anywhere? Just not h-here,” Evan jerks his arm in the direction of Jared’s house. Connor nods. 

“Sure,” he says, and as Connor removes his hands from Evans shoulder and side Evan jolts. He’d not registered the other teen had still been holding him, and as they walk Evan is certain his face is bright red, hot with something he can’t quite identify.

* * *

Time doesn't seem to be moving correctly. Occasionally it seemed slow; thinking back as Evan had witnessed the reactions of his Mom and Jared it was like watching a movie at half speed, every detail seemed enhanced and it felt like it was burned into his memory. Without the distraction of watching his friends and family however it was like time was passing twice as fast some days and twice as slow others. Literal days had passed since his death, (he’d watched the sun rise and fall multiple times) but each day seemed a different length. 

He and Connor had taken to drifting between a number of ‘safe’ spots where there were minimal people and maximum flat surfaces. Evan hadn’t even tried walking across grass; after prodding the hard blades with his foot and finding complete resistance he had vivid images of impaling his foot, each blade of grass like a titanium needle. Or well, and actual _blade_ of grass. Connor had argued they try phasing through the grass but Evan had quickly shot that down; he was immediately inundated with horrifying images of them phasing through the surface of the Earth and Evan would rather not take the risk.  
He was however disappointed they weren't able to visit the Orchard; since Connor first described it he’d been pretty certain he’d have loved it or at the very least appreciated walking amongst the trees and wildlife there.

Evan wasn't sure what day it was or how many had passed, but he found himself yet again thinking of his Mom. He’d been avoiding thinking of her at all costs, terrified to travel to her location and find her crying and upset. He’d outright told Connor to distract him at one point, explaining how little he wanted to see Jared, or his Mom. Connor had understood, probably more than most if the impression Evan got of his familial relations was any indication. It didn't last forever.  
One moment he’s enjoying the chatter of a passing child with their parents, the next he’s thinking of his own parents, his Mom. He can’t stop, it’s like it’s accumulated every time he’s forcibly thought of other things each memory building causing a crescendo of guilt; her singing off key just to make him smile, her proud face as he finally managed to ride his bike alone, the look on her face when his dad…

It’s like he blinks, and in a moment of déjà vu he’s gone from sitting next to Connor on the empty public bench to falling. He hits the pavement out of of what he recognises as Connor’s house, aware of the discomfort running up his back and hands at the sudden collision. He blinks for a moment before awkwardly rising to his feet, unsure why he’s arrived here and not his own home. It’s only moments later that Connor himself appears looking harried and annoyed.

“Can you _stop_ doing that it...” Connor trails off as he must realise where he is. Evan swallows.

“Were you thinking of my family? Were you thinking of my _sister_?!” Connor sounds incredulous and increasingly angry and Evan raises his hands placatingly.

“No! No I was, I was thinking of my Mom!” Evan squeaks taking a step back. 

“Why would your Mom be at my house?” Connor asks, breathing heavily.

“I don’t kn-know?” Evan replies. He’s sure he’s sweating. Despite the obvious stress of being dead, the last few days had been relatively stress free; the sudden change is jarring and Evan can feel his pulse increase rapidly.

“Do you mind if, if we go in and check? I mean I can go on my own if y-you don’t want to see them but um that seems weird? For me to you know um go into y-your house without you going into your house at the same time? I mean…”

“It’s fine,” Connor cuts his tangent short (for which Evan is glad) before repeating himself with steely resolve “It’s…fine,”

“O-Okay,” Evan nods. Seeing Connor is making no move to head inside he turns, phasing through the door. He still needs to close his eyes. Connor follows shortly after and Evan resists the urge to call out into the empty hallway, to see if the house was occupied. There’s gentle murmurs coming from the kitchen and he makes in that direction, glancing back at the other boy to gauge his reaction.

Connor’s posture is stiff and unnatural, and it’s then that Evan realises how truly relaxed he’d appeared earlier. Now he appears uncomfortable and twitchy, as though a second away from fighting or running. He makes no move to follow Evan as he heads through the already open door and Evan attempts to breathe through his nose. He tries to force the panic back as he enters the room, but the moment he sees the occupants his heart begins to race. 

Hi Mom is sat hunched at the table nursing a mug and Connor’s Mom sits opposite her, a man that Evan presumes is Connor’s dad is standing just behind a hand on his (presumed) wife’s shoulder. 

“C-Connor,” Evan can’t help but call as he tries to process the scene. 

“What?” Connor sounds stressed and the next moment he’s there, next to Evan. Evan appreciates his closeness, his presence being the only constant in the situation. He swallows.

“Why is m-my Mom h-here?” he asks, his voice cracking. 

“You realise I have no idea right?” Connor replies, gnawing his lip. His eyes appear fixed on Evan; at a guess Evan thinks he’s probably avoiding looking at his parents.

“I kn-know I just don’t…”

“So you didn't know either?” Connor’s Moms voice is soft and broken as she addresses his Mom.

“No I…look I'm very sorry for your loss but I'm still confused. Evan didn't know Connor, he didn't mention him to me at all he…” his Mom’s voice trails off.

“We had no idea either. It wasn't until we found…” Connor’s Mom’s eyes fill with tears.

“We found Connor’s note,” the man interjects, sliding a folded sheet across the table. Evan can hear Connor swearing lowly under his breath as his Mom opens and begins to read. There’s an awkward silence, broken only by the faint ticking of a nearby clock.

“This-this isn't what you think it is,” his Mom sounds pained and Evans chest clenches painfully.

“What do you mean? It’s addressed to your son see, ‘Dear Evan Hansen’” Connor’s Mom sounds desperate, gesturing towards to note and Evan begins to understand Connor’s distress.

“O-Oh shit,” he mutters eyes wide. 

“No, this. This is a therapy letter Evan was--Evan wrote letters to himself as part of his therapy,” his Mom appears to be choking back tears, her eyes haven’t left the note. 

“This makes no sense, why would he have your son’s therapy letter with him when he-when he did what he did,” the man asks, tone firm. 

“I was going to ask you the same question,” his Mom replies. Evan watches her wipe stray tears across her face with her sleeve. 

“We thought that he wrote it for Evan that he had a-a friend, that it would _explain_ something,” Connors Mom sounds desperate and Evan is aware that Connor is now gripping his shoulder tightly. If it could, he’s sure it would bruise.

“I wish everything was different, I wish I were a part of something, I wish that what I said mattered to _anyone_ ” the man continues; Evan jolts slightly recognising his own words.

“ _Larry_ ” Connor’s Mom admonishes, glancing nervously over at Evan’s Mom’s bitter expression. Did she now think _this_ was Evan’s real suicide note?

“Did they even,” she continues, swallowing deeply “did they even _know_ each other?”

“Someone called Connor signed his cast. It seems too coincidental to be a different Connor,” his Mom replies and Evan glances down at the large signature across his cast. His Mom must have noticed after she found him.

“So they were friends?” Connor’s Mom sounds so full of hope, or was it desperation. 

“I-I don’t know,” his Mom is running her hand through her hair, expression pinched “they must have spoken that day, Evan didn’t have any signatures on his cast that morning. He was going to ask around,” her breath hitches “maybe he asked Connor?”

“Connor wasn't the type to go round signing peoples casts,” the man says sighing (Larry, Evan’s mind supplies). 

“Either way, they never mentioned each other to any of us and on the same day they both…” his Mom’s voice begins to wobble and she swallows audibly as though swallowing tears.

“It mentions Zoe, Connor’s sister and that’s partly why we assumed this was Connor’s. Did he know Zoe?” Larry asks. His Mom shakes her head.

“I don’t know, he never mentioned _anyone_ to me,” she mutters. 

“Are you sure he wrote this?” Connor’s Mom asks quietly.

“I can’t—I can’t think of why it would be written like _this_ otherwise. They, they always had a structure, it’s too similar not to be... If Connor wrote this he would have had to have known about the letters, I just don’t know” his Mom’s voice is cracking, her breathing rapid and Evan feels his heart crunch in response.

“Did Evan leave a note?” Connor’s Mom asks. His Mom takes a moment to reply.

“Eight words,” she replies and Evan is shocked at the bitterness in her voice “ _I'm sorry you’ll be better off this way_ ”

The grip on Evan’s shoulder tightens. 

“That sounds more like something Connor would write,” Larry replies thoughtfully.

“Larry that’s…”

“Don’t deny it Cynthia. He tried it before,” Larry is now speaking to his Mom and Evan feels uncomfortable at the matter of fact tone “left some half assed note similar to this,”

“He’d tried before?” his Mom asks. She appears just as uncomfortable as Evan feels.

“Two years ago. Had your son ever…?”

“No,” his Mom interjects, tone harsh. Evan winces at her conviction, fully aware he had in fact tried before. “Are you suggesting they had each other’s suicide notes?”

“What the fuck is happening,” Connor is muttering to himself, and Evan is inclined to agree. The situation has quickly escalated to something reminiscent of a murder mystery.

“Maybe,” Larry shrugs.

“Did they plan this together?” Connor’s Mom (Cynthia, her name is Cynthia) asks, her voice breaking.

“I don’t know. _I don’t know!_ ” his Mom stands suddenly, chair scraping against the tiles “I don’t know anything, and I’m sorry, thank you for inviting me into your home but I can’t _do_ this my son is _dead_ I found my son _dead_ ,” 

Evan feels the familiar guilt, sharp and painful as it prickles through his body. Cynthia slams her own chair back, ignoring her floundering husband and Evan watches numbly as she walks over to his Mom, embracing her tightly. 

“I found him too,” she whispers, but it seems to carry throughout the room and the next few moments are filled with heavy sobs as both women cry brokenly into each other’s arms. Larry doesn’t appear to have moved, hell he could be tap dancing for all Evan cares, his eyes are glued to his Mom.

Evan forces his stare away and looks over his shoulder at Connor. The other’s expression seems carefully schooled but Evan can see him trembling.

“D-do you want to leave?” he asks. Connor’s head turns fast, expression cutting; he stares at Evan a few seconds before answering (it’s long enough to make Evan uncomfortable in a way he’s not sure why).

“He doesn't care,” Connor’s voice is quiet but harsh.

“Who y-your Dad?” Evan asks.

“Larry,” Connor hisses “he’s not been my Dad in years,”

Evan isn't sure how to respond.

“Just look at him!” Connor uses his free hand to gesture wildly at the man. Evan looks; Larry appears stilted, unsure as he watches his wife embrace what must essentially be a stranger. 

“Has he even cried? Does he even care? Or is he relieved he doesn't have to deal with his problem son any more” Connor sounds distraught. His voice has been gaining in volume, and Evan reaches out a gentle hand only for it to be shrugged away as the other begins stalking towards his Father.

“Are you happy now Larry? Are you _fucking happy?_ ” he screams into the face of the man; Connor’s taller than him by a couple of inches though less broad and he hunches only slightly as he shouts. 

“Connor,” Evan makes his way over slowly. 

“Look at him Evan, _fucking look at him_ ,” Connor gestures wildly. Evan does look. He looks at the man and sees none of the soul crumbling sadness that permeates his own Mom and Cynthia. He sees an uncertainty as Larry observes the scene, clearly uncomfortable, but yes he sees Connors point. In comparison to the two women, Larry is practically stoic. 

“I just wanted him to feel a _fraction _of what he made me feel. I just wanted…” Evan watches as Connor’s face crumples and before his mind can run through every negative scenario he’s already reaching out and pulling the taller teen into his arms.__

__It’s undoubtedly awkward; Evan’s arms are wrapped round Connor’s torso and the height difference means his own face is crushed slightly in the crook of his neck. There’s a moment where nothing happens, Connor is just there and unmoving and oh god this is awkward why did he do this _oh god his hands are sweating now fuck fuckfuck_._ _

__Evan sighs audibly in relief when he feels Connor (finally) respond to the hug, finding himself enveloped in a strong embrace. Their parents are still talking, but all Evan can hear is his own heavy breathing mingling with Connor’s._ _

__“Let’s go,” he says quietly. He feels Connor nod above him, and before he can back out of his decision he disbands the embrace, grabbing his hand and pulling him gently out the room. He doesn't look back, certain his own face must be bright red (it feels hot enough to be on fire) but Connor allows him to pull him out the room. Evan struggles at the front door. He leans against it, eyes closed but nothing seems to happen. Maybe it was the pressure of bringing Connor, he didn't know, just that he was now also hot with embarrassment as well as…well whatever else._ _

__“Really?” Connor’s voice although still not normal is thick with amusement._ _

__Evan feels himself tugged forward and through the door as though it was already open. With Connor now leading Evan finds himself relaxing just a bit._ _

__“I don’t kn-know why I find it-it so hard,” Evan mutters, burying his head into his chin. Connor laughs under his breath._ _

__“Just don’t think so hard,”_ _

__Evan can’t help laugh at this, slightly hysterical giggles that make Connor turn and stare._ _

__“S-sorry that’s just impossible. You know? Because of the an-anxiety?” he’s aware he’s smiling widely, maybe for the first time since he’d died. His face burns hotter as Connor just….stares._ _

__“Fair enough,” he finally replies, coughing lightly and looking away almost pointedly. Evan tries not to dwell on his reaction instead thinking more of the fact they were still holding hands. He was more concerned that despite his heart rate increasing at the realisation, he still had no desire to let go._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is shorter than intended however if I didn't stop it here then it was going to get monster length. This is seriously going to be so long (they've not even reached hell yet) but I wanted some quality character growth together before they were thrown in the deep end. 
> 
> Is this a preferred chapter length? (4kwords approx) or are people preferring the longer chapters? (6/7k)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this! Not much happened I know, but it's a necessary insight :)
> 
> To come: more regarding suicide notes, what's happening with Jared, funeral plans and things are happening in the school as a result.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys continue bonding, check in on Jared and find out there are rumours circulating..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Talk of suicide, death, description of panic attack and dissociation, implied self harm (scratching), hinted at child abuse (very very subtle hints at the point, nothing descriptive) If I've missed anything (hopefully not) feel free to let me know!

Evan stared at Connor. The other was sat opposite him, sat cross legged from where they’d climbed atop a nearby car. Evan had been hesitant, but at the reminder they’d cause no damage whatsoever he’d conceded and clambered onto the roof. It was more comfortable than the pavement would have been.

“What the fuck was that?” Connor sounded exasperated.

“The um whole suicide note thing?” Evan inquires. Connor nods.

“Yup. Why the fuck do they think we gave each other our suicide notes? Why would we _do_ that?” 

“I don’t know? I mean you having my um therapy note was a bit—odd? But I-I mean I was surprised they thought I had yours?” Evan says fiddling with the end of his cast. 

“Was that really your note? What your Mom said?” Connor asks. 

“Yes? I didn't want to write anything longer in case, in case I lost my, you know um—nerve,” Evan says. 

He scratches along his bare are, digging deep yet doing no damage. He’s aware Connor’s watching him and he dares a glance; Connor’s expression is hard to read. The other boy hums in response but that’s it. 

“I wish I could shower,” Connor says finally. Evan looks at him and he’s sure his confusion must be obvious.

“That was random,” he says before he can think about it. Connor chuckles slightly.

“Yeah I know. Do you not feel dirty? Like I feel really greasy,” he says running a hand through his long hair. Evan’s eyes trace the motion and part of him wonders if it’s soft as it looks.

“No? I guess not, I mean I still _feel_ clean even if it’s been a few um days s-since actually showering?” Evan replies. He’d actually thought about it as he was certain he’d been sweating but regardless he still _felt_ clean. 

“Maybe it’s-it’s because I’d showered the night before I offed myself?” he continues, wincing a little at his indifferent tone. 

“Maybe. I needed a shower that morning, just didn't bother. Fuck, hope this doesn't mean I'm gonna stay a greasy mess forever,” Connor groaned, finally removing his hand from his hair and grimacing.

“Who knows maybe there’s showers in the place we’re go-going?” Evan says, grinning slightly (partly to cover his own growing panic at the thought of their unknown afterlife).

“I somehow doubt it,” Connor sighs. 

“Do you feel hungry?” Evan asks, thinking of his own dull hunger. It hadn't bothered him as such; he was used to the sensation, often missing meals due to his anxiety making him feel nauseous or physically preventing him from ordering food. 

“Not really. I didn't feel hungry when I died so I guess that’s why. You?” Connor nods in his direction.

“Yes? Sort of? I didn't eat anything that day s-so…” Evan trails off.

“Fuck so you must feel like you’re starving right?” Evan can’t be sure but he _thinks_ Connor sounds concerned. He shrugs in reply.

“I mean I'm used to it…not eating I mean. Um, wow that sounds bad um I just mean s-some days I don’t eat? No that sounds just as bad um. My anxiety makes it hard to eat sometimes a-and I can’t order food ‘cause it involves talking to people so…” Evan rambles, hands sweating as word after word tumbles out in quick succession. 

“What about your Mom? Doesn't she, you know, cook?” Connor asks and the concern is still clear in his voice. Part of Evan wants to retort that _just because your Mom has the time and resources to cook doesn't mean every Mom does_. He doesn't though, just smiles stiffly.

“She works pretty much every-everyday. I barely see—barely saw her between her working and going to cl-classes. It was just me. Alone,” he’s aware how sad it sounds as the words leave his lips, and he purposefully avoids looking at Connor lest he be staring at him in pity or disgust. 

“Cynth—my Mom tried, but it was like even though she was there she wasn't _there_ , like when I tried to talk to her she’d listen but she wouldn't _listen_ so I stopped trying. Just caused more arguments,” Connor says; he sounds despondent. Evan is slightly shocked he’s discussing his Mom (he’d been adamant to avoid any talk of his family before) but also sort of honoured. It was a warm feeling, like Connor was trusting him with this information so Evan listened intently.

“At least our Moms th-they…tried? I guess? It’s nice I suppose,” he replies.

“Does it matter now?” Connor asks, expression unreadable. Evan thinks for a moment. His Mom had tried. She’d tried hard her entire life. Life gave her a broken son and she’d tried her best with him. It wasn't her fault he was unfixable. 

“To her? Probably not I mean she tried and I st-still died? To me? Yeah it…it means something,” he says, clutching his cast as though to ground himself. Connor nods.

“Huh, guess that’s what matters then,” Connor says quietly and it’s almost as though he’s speaking to himself.

* * *

“I want to see Jared,” 

“What?”

Connor looks incredulous at Evan’s statement and Evan can’t blame him. About a day had passed since seeing their parents theorize at Connor’s house and Evan had since been thinking (in between their random discussions anyway). They were perched cross-legged on a garden wall, the sun had just risen and Evan was tapping his fingers nervously along his cast.

“He um seemed bothered? By my death? Like I didn't really know how he’d re-react but…” Evan thinks of Jared’s reaction briefly; it was unexpected and he still wasn't overly sure how he felt about it.

“Uh yeah, no offence but ‘bothered’ might be an understatement, he seemed _really_ upset by it,” Connor’s tone is matter of fact.

“Wh-why would I be offended?” Evan asks, the slight tilt to his head subconscious. 

“Dunno, you just seemed pretty adamant he like, hated you or something,” Connor replies, shrugging slightly. Evan narrows his eyes. 

“I didn't think he-he _hated_ me I just didn't think he’d care. I didn't thi-think he cared about me any-more,” 

“Look Hansen, I don’t like Kleinman but he very clearly gave a shit that you died,” 

Evan feels himself grow annoyed; he can’t help the pointed tone that leaves his mouth.

“And th-that’s nice of him, to care that I’m _dead_ but it would have been even _nicer_ if he’d said this to me when-when I was alive. Because yes a p-part of me _did_ think that he hated me why else would he have…” Evan stops, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quell his nerves and anger.  
“Why else did he _abandon_ me?” he finally asks, voice cracking “an-and sure he didn't know I was _suicidal_ but h-he knew what I was going through and what I _went_ through. He was the only one I t-told about…” he trails off, not wanting to bring up his dad right now. 

“About?” it’s only when Connor speaks that he fully registers who he’d been speaking to; this felt almost similar to a venting session with Dr Sherman. Dr Sherman. Wow, he’d not even thought about him, did he feel guilty? Would he care that Evan was dead? _Really_ care that was, not in a professional sense. 

“Evan?” Connor sounds concerned. He licks his lips slightly before answering.

“Sorry I was thinking,” he says quietly. 

“S’okay just—do you really want to see Kleinman?” Evan looks up so he’s pretty much staring into Connor’s eyes; they’re concerned and warm. He nods.

“Yeah. I want some closure I-I guess? And even though I didn't think It was reciprocated he um he was my friend. I wanna see if he’s okay,” he ends with a small shrug. 

“Sure. Sure that’s fine,” Connor says sighing, and Evans flashes him a small but sincere smile. 

“Okay I’ll um…is now okay?” he asks nervously. Connor visibly rolls his eyes.

“Yes Evan now is okay,” 

“Good um I’ll just, you know,” Evan replies nervously. He’d not done this on command yet, the previous times all being complete accidents. He closes his eyes and tries to think of Jared, picturing what he’d be doing right now. He opens his eyes. Nothing’s happened.

“Um it’s not working? How do you normally do it?” he asks, referring to the times Connor had appeared having followed him, almost instantaneously.

“I dunno I guess I just think about you? Like, the emotions I felt when I last saw you, that kind of thing?” Connor replies; his face appears flushed and he’s looking anywhere but Evan. 

“Um okay I’ll try that?” Evan says awkwardly, closing his eyes and attempting to think about Jared again. It’s hard, all he wants to focus on now is the fact that Connor is feeling _emotions_ when he thinks about him and wow he has no idea how to react to that except he’s now feeling sort of warm and flustered. No, he needs to think of Jared.

He lets his mind wander to a memory he’d not considered in years, the day he’d told him about his dad. He remembers how they’d sat in Jared’s garden, cross legged, knees touching. He remembers the way the grass felt between his fingers and he played with it, the smell of the rain that had only recently stopped, the damp grass soaking through his jeans. He remembers the feel of Jared’s arm across his back as the other promised he wouldn't tell anyone. He thought more recently of Jared’s awkward smile, the way he’d chatter loudly as he played games, his…

“Evan,” Connor’s voice cuts across his thoughts and he opens his eyes. They’re at school, standing behind Jared’s desk. Evan recognises this as his English class, one of the few classes he’d shared with the other boy and his eyes drift over to his old desk, empty. 

“O-oh shit I should have realised he’d be in school,” Evan whispers. Connors chuckles.

“Why are you whispering?” he asks, smirking. 

“I don’t know? I feel like I-I should?” Evan says, still looking around. It’s surreal to be here, yet another place he’d thought he’d never see again.

“Why are we here and not um outside?” Evan asks, referring to the past few times where they’d been outside the property, not directly behind whoever they were thinking about.

“No idea maybe because you were actually trying? First time I uh, travelled to you was an accident and I ended up outside so,” Connor replies, looking round the classroom calmly.

“I just didn't think um we’d be here?” Evan practically squeaks as he takes in the other students.

“What’s the issue? Kleinman’s right here,” Connor says, gesturing to the boy in front of him.

“Um yes but remember what happens when people walk in-into us?” Evan replies, remembering in great detail how Zoe had knocked him across the room as though he were made of paper. 

“Oh shit yeah,” Connor is now scowling, and Evan isn't sure why but he feels grateful as the other takes a step towards him.

“We’ll have to avoid them I guess?” Evan suggests. Connor nods. Evan doesn't want to think about how they’ll navigate the halls without walking into anyone; yet again he wishes they were incorporeal, being walked through seemed easier than being bowled over. 

The bell rings and both Evan and Connor watch as Jared hastily shoves his notebook into his bag. He didn't appear to have been making any notes as there’s no sign of a pen. As he begins to walk towards the door (Evan and Connor following closely behind) a voice calls out, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Jared can I have a word?” 

It was Ms Diaz. Evan had always thought she was kind; she’d never made him speak in class more than necessary for an assignment and she’d always seemed so understanding of his issues. Jared’s posture visibly slumped, but he made his way over dutifully, clearly ignoring the whispers of fellow classmates. She waited until they were the only ones left before speaking.

“I just wanted to know how you were holding up Jared. Your Mom spoke to me and a few other members of faculty about how you were handling things, but I wanted to check in,” she asks. Her voice is as kind as Evan remembers. Jared smiles widely and it’s obvious to Evan how fake it is.

“I’m fine Ms Diaz just, you know,” he says shrugging. His eyes are darting left and right as though seeking an exit; it’s clear how uncomfortable he is.

“I just wanted you to know that if you need any extra help with deadlines just let me know, okay? I _know_ how hard it must be for you,” she says, her expression radiating sympathy. 

“Yeah uh, his funerals next Monday so I…” Jared swallows harshly. Ms Diaz smiles sympathetically whilst Evan finds himself reeling internally at the thought of what must be his own funeral. 

“Of course Jared, you can have the paper in by the following Monday,” she says calmly. Jared nods before taking a step back.

“Thanks Ms Diaz. Uh, sorry but I really need to get going I have…”

“It’s fine Jared don’t worry. Just make sure you keep me up to date okay?”

“Sure,” Jared’s smile is so fake it’s like he’s made of plastic, Evan can barely look at it. As Jared finally makes his exit he and Connor hurry behind, Connor muttering about ‘fucking teachers and their empty promises’. 

Evan can feel his anxiety spike as they head into the hall, he’s even sure he may have whimpered as he took in the vast amount of students. As he edges his way out of the classroom he’s knocked back by a student travelling just that bit too close. 

“Woah!” he hears Connor shout as he flies back, but just as he expects to fall he’s caught by the other boy and pulled tightly against his chest. 

“Fucking idiot,” Connor practically growls, but as Evan glances up to apologise (terrified he’d angered the other) it’s obvious Connor’s glaring at the guy who’d knocked into him. Evan takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

“H-he can’t see us Connor,” he says, seconds away from laughing hysterically at the situation. 

“He’s still a dick,” Connor says, still glaring into the distance.

“Thanks anyway,” Evan says softly.

“Whatever,” Connor mutters and Evan can’t see his expression well enough to gauge it.

“Where’s Jared?” Evan asks, remembering with a jolt their reason for being here. He peers around anxiously.

“This way,” Connor says and Evan finds himself removed from the embrace. He’s only disappointed for a moment before Connor grabs his hand and begins pulling him gently but firmly, weaving throughout the students until they’re back with Jared. He’s reaching into his locker, expression subdued.

Evan stops for a moment to actually look at Jared, and he can’t help the sharp tug of _something_ as he takes in his old friend’s appearance. Stood just to the left of his locker Evan can see very clearly the dark bags beneath his eyes, the tense expression as though he were clenching his jaw. His clothes look crumpled; Jared had never cared a huge amount about what he wore but his clothes were always at least somewhat neat. There’s visible creases in his shirt and the T-Shirt beneath was the one he’d been wearing when Evan had last seen him. He looks a mess.

“So Jared is it?”

Both Evan and Jared jump (Evan more so) at the sudden voice. Evan’s eyes flick over to the owner of the voice, recognising it as one of the slightly more popular guys in their year. He’s tall, blonde and Evan’s pretty sure he’d been in one of his classes. The expression he wore wasn't unkind but it didn't stop Evan’s nerves from jolting. He felt something like second-hand fear or discomfort for Jared as the guy approached.

“Yeah that’s me,” Jared replies with a smile. It’s wide, Jared’s expression morphing from tense to cocky in a split second. If Evan didn't know Jared as well as he did he’d have believed it were real. 

“Look, we were just wondering…you knew that guy right? Evan something?” the guy asks. Jared’s expression hardens.

“Yeah I knew Evan,” he says slowly. Evan turns to look at Connor, shooting him a nervous glance. Connor returns it with a sharp look before his gaze is drawn back to the blonde. 

“Look you’ve heard the rumours right? About him and Murphy?” the guy continues. Both Evan and Jared’s expressions change rapidly, Evan’s rife with anxiety and Jared’s now openly hostile.

“ _What?_ ” Jared’s tone is steely. The blonde was either ignoring obvious social cues or he simply didn't care.

“They both…you know. On the same day? People have been saying they were you know, together or something. Jade said you spoke to Evan sometimes and we figured you might know?” he carries on talking, nodding his head slightly to whom Evan presumes is Jade. There’s a small crowd attempting to look nonchalant, but they’re all very clearly listening. 

At the mention of speaking to Evan Jared visibly winced, but Evan had swiftly whipped his head round to face Connor finding a similar expression of confusion on his face.

Evan’s mind is whirring with a steady stream of profanity as he tries to process that _people were talking about him oh god_. It’s only at the sudden thought that _oh he’s dead now_ that he begins to calm his thoughts. Still it’s frightening to think of people openly discussing him and he wants to shrink down and hide, even though he is completely invisible.

“Together as in…?” Jared speaks slowly, dragging the words out. Any fake warmth that had been in his expression is gone and he looks nothing short of pissed.

“Like, dating? Or fucking, but that’s…”

“You’re seriously asking about my _dead_ **best friend’s** sex life?” Jared’s voice grows in volume as he speaks, he’s practically hissing the words. The blonde looks shocked and there’s a clear lull in noise as students around take in the scene. 

Evan feels a burst of—something as he registers what Jared has said. Bitterness because _really? It only took him literally dying for Jared to publicly admit they were friends_ and also because _why hadn't he told him before he’d died? If he’d had Jared, if he’d had his friend back then maybe he wouldn't have…_  
As bitterly as he felt he _still_ felt happy to hear Jared reciprocate his friendship, because for all that time Jared was supposedly pretending they were just ‘family friends’ he was still Evan’s friend. His _only_ friend.

“Look man I’m sorry, I didn't think you guys were that close,” Evan looks up at the blonde; he’s taken a step back clearly not expecting Jared’s rage.  
“Yeah, well we _were_ and even if not you shouldn't be talking about him like that, not when he’s…what the **fuck** is wrong with you!?” Jared hisses. The guy takes another step back.

“Woah dude chill, I was just curious,” he says, tone still radiating surprise.

“Well don’t be,” Jared snaps. There’s an awkward silence around them where the only sounds are the students walking past (the students who aren't hanging around and listening in anyway).

“Look I’m sorry about your friend,” the blonde guy says finally. He sounds more disconcerted than sincere. 

“Thanks,” Jared’s reply is less waspish than before, but the accompanying smile is less than friendly. 

Evan turns to Connor as the blonde moves away. Jared is sorting through his locker more harshly than before and it’s only at the angle Evan is that he can see his face. It was like the embodiment of a storm, dark and dangerous. It’s unsettling to say the least, he’d seen Jared truly angry only a couple of times but never to this extent. Evan can’t help but wonder if this is all fuelled by guilt, and he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt himself.

Connor’s expression is more difficult to read. Evan swallows.

“I didn't think Jared would re-react like that?” he says. They huddle closer together as a student reaches for what must be their locker.

“Yeah I've never seen him anything but obnoxious and arrogant,” Connor remarks, leaning back against the lockers. 

Evan almost laughs at the parallels between this scene and the last time they’d all been in school. How much time had really passed? It felt like weeks but it had only been a number of days. He’d gone from terrified of the taller Murphy to quite fond. Even when the other raised his voice he found himself less afraid and more concerned (still a bit afraid because well, shouting, but it was overpowered by his concern for the other).

“He’s never been um very confidant?” Evan says, running his fingers up and down his cast. 

“You’re joking right? The whole time I've known him which is what, since the start of high-school? He’s tried to be centre of attention at all fucking times at everyone else’s expense. He’s _always_ been a dick,” Connor says gesturing to the sullen looking teen.

“Yeah but tha-that’s not really him? He faked it a lot,” Evan says, remembering back to when he’d first started ignoring and belittling him.  
He had faked this arrogant personality to a certain extent for years, but never to Evan. Then all of a sudden he had, but he’d never backed down or admitted to it. Their past friendship seemed only to provide more personal insults and ways to distance him from Evan; he’d known exactly what to say (or not say) to hurt him. 

Very rarely Evan remembers him looking guilty or regretful, but he never apologised and the occasions were so few and far between that he’d stopped hoping Jared would snap out of it. He’d always been too busy hanging out with his ‘camp friends’ but Evan wasn't entirely sure they even existed. Their interactions had dwindled into Jared occasionally making snide comments, reminding him to lie to his Mom and say they still interacted (so she’d tell his Mom and his car insurance would be paid) and the very occasional text. From Jared’s reaction the night he found out about Evan, the car insurance was a lie; another thing Evan was now thoroughly confused about.

“He was still a dick,” Connor points out and Evan nods “he insulted me for _years_ , literally called me a school shooter the day I killed myself and has he shown _any_ remorse not directly related to _you_? Nope. Not a bit,” for Connor’s blasé expression he definitely _sounds_ effected.

“I d-don’t know? We’ve only seen him twice, I’m sure he feels um guilty about it? And I mean um he sort of thinks it’s his fault I’m dead?” Evan says and wow now he says that he feels terrible. Evan can’t even begin to think of what that guilt might feel like, and his worry about Jared (that at one time he’d forced to the back of his mind) jumps into full gear.

“Yeah. Shit. Wait so is that all you’re bothered about from—this?” Connor says gesturing vaguely.

“Um yes? I mean I'm not happy there’s people talking about me ‘cause you know, anxiety?” Evan says, smiling a little awkwardly.

“So just the fact they’re talking about you? Not the fact they’re saying we were dating?” Connor asks, his face appearing carefully blank. 

“Oh um,” Evan hadn't even thought about it in truth, considering it only for a moment “not really? Um I mean I'm dead, as you know I like t-to remind you,” he flashes a somewhat bold grin before continuing “it’s uncomfortable to um think about people talking about me? But I don’t have to, you kn-know be here to listen to it every day so…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Just that then?” Connor asks once more. Evan nods.

“So not that they’re literally Kurt and Ram-ing us?” 

“Kurt and—wait are you ref-referencing Heathers?” Evan asks, eyes widening in realisation.

“Yeah, and?” Connor replies, his tone defensive. Evan ignores this.

“I love that movie,” he smiles. Connor blinks a couple times before shrugging slightly.

“Uh yeah whatever. So you don’t care?” Connor asks again. Evan’s eyes narrow, not sure exactly why he’s so adamant to clarify.

“No. Why?” he asks. 

“Well you know, you’re not gay,” Connor says. He sounds so certain Evan needs to stifle a laugh.

“Um I know? But I’m bi so that-that’s not a _huge_ deal,” Evan replies, turning his attention back to Jared in order to stifle his nerves. 

Connor was officially the first person he’d come out to; he’d not felt comfortable discussing it with Jared and by the time he’d come to terms with his sexuality, Jared had been ignoring him. Yet another thing his Mom would never know; he’d been so certain that _no one_ would want to date him that he figured it was never relevant. There’s a stretch of silence just that bit too long to be comfortable before Connor replies.

“Oh uh okay. That’s good?” he sounds incredibly awkward and Evan is sort of glad it’s not just him for once.

“Uh yeah?” he says, not sure how to reply.

“I mean um, I’m gay anyway so yeah I wouldn't have like an issue or anything,” Connor continues quickly and though his tone seems purposely unaffected his face appears red. 

Evan hadn't even stopped to think about the other _having_ an issue with it and wow that’s lucky because imagine if he had to spend his afterlife with a raging bigot. He feels relieved just as quickly, now knowing Connor held no judgement. He files away the fact that Connor is _gay_ as something to think of later because there’s a small part of him now thinking _wow he’s romantically viable_ , and a larger part of him thinking, _don’t be stupid, why would he think of you as anything but pathetic?_. 

“Hey Kleinman’s leaving,” Connor says, interrupting his rising panic and sure enough Jared is walking away, merging into the crowd of students.

“Shit,” Evan mutters under his breath. The crowd was much busier and much harder to navigate than earlier. He finds himself pulled back sharply, just as a tall student leans into where he was standing. He nods at Connor in thanks, wondering how they’d find Jared. 

“Should I just, you know um fast travel?” Evan asks. Connor shakes his head.

“Nah he’s heading towards the library, it’s literally there” he says and Evan stands on tiptoes to look in the same direction. Sure enough Jared appears to be heading in a rush towards the library; he even knocks into another student, barely sparing them a glance. 

“Come on,” Connor mutters and yet again Evan finds himself led through the hall. It was trickier this time and more than once he found himself tugged sharply to avoid a student. As he’s pulled through the open doors of the library he sighs heavily, relieved that it appears to be mostly empty. Connor lets go of his hand and turns to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah, th-thanks. Just crowds you know?” he says. His hand now feels empty and he’s immediately reaching for his cast as though to compensate for the lack of warmth. 

After some minor searching they find Jared; he’s sat as far out of the way as possible, head in hands. He doesn't appear to be studying, it’s like he’s hiding. Evan can’t blame him. 

“So what do you wanna do?” Connor asks after a few moments of observation. 

“I don’t know? He does-doesn’t seem okay but I can’t really do anything a-about it?” Evan says, and he’s sure he must look as disheartened as he sounds. 

“Huh well I think you…” Connor trails off, seemingly staring at something in the distance. Evan turns to face the same direction and is surprised to see Zoe walking slowly towards them. 

“Um, Connor…” Evan isn’t sure what to ask; is he okay? Does he want to leave? Perhaps selfishly Evan wants to stay, to find out why Zoe is staring at Jared with a steely look of determination. There’s not enough time for Connor to reply before Zoe is speaking.

“Jared?” she says, somewhat timidly. 

“What do you—oh um. Hi?” Jared changes tact mid turn, as though registering who was in fact talking to him.

“Hi?” Zoe replies. Her face is almost blank. It matches Connor’s.

“I thought you were someone else. Zoe right?” Jared replies, expression schooled back into casual nonchalance. He knows exactly who she is (Evan put up with enough snide comments relating to his supposed crush on her) and it’s obvious, but she appears to play along nodding. 

“Zoe, yeah. Look I heard what you said in the hall,” she says. Jared’s expression falters.

“You did?” 

“Yeah. A lot of people did,” her tone is matter of fact.

“Huh,” Jared doesn't appear to know what to say. Zoe sighs, falling into the seat next to him.

“Look I just wanted—I guess I wanted to know if what that guy said is true. About Evan and Connor,” she says, sighing. Connor appears to be grinding his teeth and Evan gives him a look of concern. Connor doesn't appear to notice, instead breathing heavily through his nose. 

“Shouldn't you know? Connor was your brother right?” Jared asks, brows raised. Zoe huffs.

“Just because he was my brother doesn't mean I knew him. Doesn't mean I—” she appears to stop herself “I just wanted to know,” she says with finality. 

“I _don’t_ know,” Jared replies after a moment. Zoe looks unsure. 

“What?” 

“Me and Evan weren't that…close. Recently I mean,” Jared winces, expression regretful before he takes a breath “I didn't speak to him all summer. All I know is they spoke on the day they…that day. Someone told me that Connor might have pushed Evan after I—I mean I didn't ask him so,”

There’s an awkward silence. Evan keeps glancing at Connor but the other seems frozen in place, eyes transfixed on his sister.

“You’re going to the funeral right?” Zoe finally asks. 

“What?” Jared sounds confused.

“Evan’s. His Mom invited us and I think she’s invited to Connor’s. Our Moms have been talking. I'm guessing you’re going, I heard when you said you guys were friends,”

_Best friends_ Evan’s thoughts interject. Jared had said _best friends_.

“I've known him since birth,” Jared says. Zoe’s eyes widen in surprise.

“That long?”

“Our Mom’s are friends,” he says in explanation. 

“Oh um, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you knew him that well,” Zoe says, sounding slightly sheepish. Jared winces slightly and Evan wonders if she noticed.

“Yeah well I’m uh also sorry. About your brother,” he says. It’s the most awkward Evan has heard him sound in _years_ and he wonders if he’s thinking of all the things he’d said to Connor. What he’d said that day.

“He wasn't my brother not…not at the end,” Zoe replies bitterly. She stops, as though realising what she’s said. Jared looks surprised mouth open as though to speak.

“I have to go, I’ll see you Monday,” her words come out in a rush and then she’s practically scrambling to her feet, walking away seconds later. Her jean jacket sways with the force of her speed and Evan watches as Jared waves somewhat awkwardly at her retreating back.

“The fuck,” he hears him mutter under his breath. Evan leans in closer, watching his confused expression settle back into one the morose one he’d worn previously.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he continues to curse, hand curling and uncurling against the table. It’s concerning to witness, like the teen is moments away from a breakdown. Evan turns to check on Connor only to find him gone. He whips his head round the library, hoping to see he’d just moved place, not vanished. He’s nowhere and Evan can feel his heart begin to pound painfully in his throat. 

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now? Who had Connor been thinking of; it’s the only logical explanation for how he’d gone so suddenly. Should he try and travel to Connor? Or did the other teen want his privacy. Could he have done it to get away from Evan? Evan almost laughs bitterly, of course he had. He’s surprised he’d not left before, sick of his anxious ranting and sweaty hands and _fuck_ he was probably thinking how annoying and _pathetic_ he was and…

Oh god how was he supposed to leave? He’d only got through the hall with Connor’s help and now he was stuck here _fuck_ FUCK.  
He’d been doing so well keeping the negative swell of emotions at bay; talking to Connor, being with the other boy had clearly helped more than he’d realised and although a rational part of him whispered that he’d probably just gone to see where Zoe had ran off to (she was his _sister_ ) his anxiety was just screaming ‘your fault your fault yourfault _yourfault_ …'

Evan sinks to the floor, gripping his knees tightly and trying to draw in breath. He was dead, he shouldn't need to breath why was it so _hard_? He claws and scratches at his throat and is hit with a sudden rush of pain so intense he inadvertently _has_ to take a breath, his hands flying from his neck and twitching. It‘s jarring going from being unable to feel pain to a pain so intense it rivals his broken arm. Tears creep out, running unchecked down his face as he gasps. 

He’s shuffled closer to Jared in his pain, oblivious Jared who is probably mourning him (is he? Is Evan that ego-centric to presume he’s…) whilst Evan is mere inches away. His back is pressed against the living teen’s leg, a warmth radiating through despite the fabric feeling stiff and uncomfortable. He’d not expected it, not expected him to be so warm and _there_ and he begins to sob, both at the continued pain and the realisation he’d never feel his friend again, not _really_.

For a moment it’s grounding, the warmth against his back reminding him of an embrace (and isn’t _that_ pathetic) and then it’s gone, Jared standing to move. The warmth is gone, Jared is gone and the motion pushes Evan off centre. He falls to the ground, face first, and shoulder next. He knows he’s dead, but his mind is still repeating it like a mantra, ‘ _I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die_ ’. 

Through blurred vision he watches Jared walk away, but he can’t bring himself to follow. He’s not sure how long he’s lying there, suffering through one of the worst panic attacks in recent history. The pain has stopped but he feels drained. Blank. He curls into himself on the floor, seeing but unseeing. He doesn't know how long he lies there for, only he seems to be drifting further away from reality. Coping techniques aren’t even considered as he lies there, hands numb, feet numb, mind circling through every negative thought it can get its hands on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to stop here it was getting too long!! To be expected next chapter: Connor comes back and panics, we find out where Connor's been and Evan's funeral is a mess. 
> 
> Has this been dragging on? I hope people aren't bored :( 
> 
> I just really enjoy fleshing these characters out...no fear though, only a couple more chapters before this arc is complete and we begin getting supernatural ;)
> 
> Like always I suggest reading the web-comic that inspired this Hell(P) by Harkill/Jey Levang (quick google search brings up the site) but be warned it is quite graphic in terms of gore and violence!
> 
> Are you guys enjoying this? I keep fluctuating between being really happy with my writing and being very insecure, so I hope this is okay (✿◕‿◕)

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh okay so we've started! Anyone spot the Michael cameo? Lots of unanswered questions I'm sure but all will be revealed in time.  
> If anyone can think of a better description/title feel free to let me know as well, it was so difficult to think of how to describe this!  
> Upcoming: Evan meets with Connor which will be traumatic I'm sure, and their time in the Between begins coughbondingtimecough. To be real though this is not happy at the moment, but we need to get through the angst to get to the action and the fluff (yes there will be fluff surprising I know). And for anyone wondering, Michael and Jeremy are indeed main characters but they won't be introduced for a little while yet.  
> Anyway, hope this is at least slightly enjoyable to read! (◕ ω ◕✿)


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